


Parabatai Pain

by PenPatronusAooO



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood & Jace Wayland Friendship, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood Feels, Alec Lightwood Needs A Hug, Alec Lightwood-centric, BAMF Alec Lightwood, BAMF Jace Wayland, Best Friends, Bromance, Brothers, Clary Fray & Alec Lightwood Friendship, Clary Fray & Isabelle Lightwood Friendship, Drama, Epic Bromance, Family, Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Alec, Hurt Alec Lightwood, Hurt Jace Wayland, Hurt/Comfort, Jace Wayland Deserves Nice Things, Jace Wayland Feels, Jace Wayland Needs A Hug, Lightwood Family, Lightwood Siblings, Magnus Bane & Jace Wayland Friendship, Parabatai, Parabatai Bond, Parabatai Feels, PenPatronus, PenPatronusAooO, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Jace Wayland, Shadowhunters - Freeform, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-20 17:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenPatronusAooO/pseuds/PenPatronusAooO
Summary: An anthology of whump and hurt/comfort stories that feature the Jace and Alec bromance but also includes Magnus, Clary, Izzy, Simon, etc. Friendship, drama, angst, aftercare, family, brotherly love. Mostly canon, but with my own interpretations of runes and magic.Story#1: FRIENDLY FIRE When Clary gets hurt on Alec’s watch, Jace is furious until he realizes that his parabatai is injured much worse. Story #2: GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN Jace volunteers to be a guinea pig when Magnus invents a spell to protect Nephilim from demon possession. Story #3: HITLER'S WARLOCKS Rogue warlocks kidnap and torture the Lightwoods. Story #4: PARABATAI PURGATORYSTORY COMPLETE!





	1. Friendly Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Clary gets hurt on Alec’s watch, Jace is furious until he realizes that his parabatai is injured much worse. Takes place early in season 1.

**Parabatai Pain**  
PenPatronus  
Story #1  
**Friendly Fire**

The distance between Jace and the Institute’s front door was only thirty meters, but he ignited his Heightened Speed rune anyway. Alec had just entered with Clary in a bridal carry—one arm under her knees, the other beneath her back. Her hands shook where they clung to his shirt collar. Fresh tears covered her flushed cheeks. Blood dripped off the tips of her toes through the makeshift bandage of napkins and duct tape around her calf.

“Didn’t you two just go out for donuts?” Jace snatched Clary out of Alec’s arms without asking either one of them for permission. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Clary insisted, wrapping her arms around Jace’s neck and nuzzling her nose against his jaw. “It’s a funny story… Well, tomorrow it will be a funny story. Next week at the latest.”

“Demons ambushed us,” Alec gasped, breathless. He tugged the two halves of his black leather jacket towards his naval and sniffed. “Ten of them.”

Jace pressed dry lips against Clary’s orange hair. “And you kicked their asses?”

“Alec did. Seriously, Jace, you should’ve seen him.” Clary mimed shooting arrows with Alec’s bow, then added her own sound effects.

The relief at seeing them safe and sound wore off as Jace examined Clary’s leg. “You let her get bit?” he snapped at his parabatai.

“No,” said both Alec and Clary. “He was amazing,” she continued. “Took the demons out in less than a minute. I got hit by, um, friendly fire. It was an accident.”

Alec stared down at his boots. “It was an accident,” he repeated. “One of my arrows missed and ricocheted off a fire escape. Just nicked her.”

“See? Funny,” Clary claimed.

“Nicked her?” Jace fumed. “Look at all this blood!” Jace’s eyes twitched and his nostrils flared. Red spread up his throat and across his face to the peaks of his ears. “You were supposed to protect her! Dammit, Alec, I trusted you!” Before Alec could respond, Jace pivoted away and started marching towards the infirmary.

Clary stayed quiet for a long moment, then tapped a manicured fingernail against Jace’s cheek. “Alec did protect me,” she whispered. “See? Here I am—successfully protected.”

“Right. I’ll recommend Alec for a medal.” Jace clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Son of a bitch. He swore he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“Jace, this isn’t his fault.” Jace booted open the infirmary door and Clary yelped when his knee bumped against her wound.

“Sorry! Sorry.”

“See,” Clary hissed between clenched teeth, “that was an accident. I don’t blame you. I don’t blame Alec.”

Jace lowered Clary onto the first bed and arranged her pillows and blankets. He started adding iratze runes, but stepped aside when a physician emerged from a back office with a stele in each hand. “I’ll be nearby,” he told Clary, squeezing her hand. “I promise.”

Alec was emptying his pockets of individually wrapped donuts when he staggered into the infirmary. “Think Simon will want this these?” he wondered, holding up ones that were speckled with blood. He coughed against his fist, still sounding out of breath. “Jace, I—”

“Shut up,” Jace snapped. “You don’t like Clary.” It was a statement, not a question. “The two of you don’t like each other.” Alec shrugged. “Parabatai, I don’t give a damn if you find her annoying or don’t trust her. But have I not made it clear that she’s important to me?”

“I know she’s important to you,” Alec sighed. “She’s all you talk about anymore.”

“There it is.” Jace dragged his fingers through his blond hair and gnawed on his bottom lip. “You’re jealous. Just like when we were kids. I thought you’d grown out of these—these stunts!”

“Stunts?” Alec’s heavy tongue slurred the word.

“You hurt her on purpose,” Jace growled. For once, Jace looked like the taller of the pair with his chin tilted up and his parabatai slouching.

Alec rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Are you seriously saying that I—”

“Remember my second summer in the Institute when I had a crush on Izzy? I spent two weeks training with her instead of you. Drove you nuts. And then, when she sparred with you—bam—benched the next day.”

Alec’s glazed, dark brown eyes stared at some fixed point beyond Jace’s shoulder. “Are you talking about the time she broke her ankle?”

“You broke her ankle!” Jace roared. “With her holed up in her room, healing, it was just you and me again. Fast forward to now. Now you’re jealous of Clary.” A twinge in Jace’s parabatai rune went unnoticed, even when it escalated into a continuous ache. Alec’s expression remained blank, which only increased Jace’s blood pressure. “Alec!”

Alec frowned and rubbed his sternum with both hands. “I don’t know what you think you saw, Jace, but I’d never hurt my sister!”

“Then this is just a coincidence, huh?” fumed Jace. “Look me in the eye, parabatai, and swear to me that you did everything you could to protect Clary! Swear it!”

“…’s hot in here,” Alec muttered.

“Are you kidding me?” A snap from Jace’s fingers caught Alec’s attention. “Is this a joke to you?”

Alec winced once, twice, three times. “Think I should sit,” he gulped. “Jace. I think I need to—”

“Leave?” Jace proposed. He didn’t notice Alec’s face turning the same ivory color as the walls. “You should leave. I’ll stay with Clary.”

“…’s hot in here, isn’t it?” Alec mumbled for a second time. He licked white lips. Sweat gathered on his forehead, his cheeks, and his upper lip. He slid his jacket off and tossed it on top of a trashcan. “Don’t worry. Your little girlfriend will be fine.”

Jace lashed out. Both of his palms collided with Alec’s chest like a battering ram and slammed him back against the wall, skull first. Donuts skidded across the floor and sailed into the air. Alec’s knees buckled and he slid to the floor, clutching his midsection, slowly toppling over. He looked down at his abdomen with wide eyes like he was seeing it for the first time. “God, Jace,” he gasped, stunned.

Jace bellowed down at him, “For the last time her name is Clary and she’s not a little—” Fresh liquid felt warm on Jace’s hands. For a moment, he stared at the blood and wondered why Clary was still conscious if that much had leaked from her leg. Then, he looked at Alec’s black long-sleeved shirt, newly revealed with his jacket absent, and saw the source of the blood: a long and large “V”-shaped bite across the left side of Alec’s torso that resembled giant insect pincers lined with rows of shark teeth.

Suddenly Jace recognized Alec’s lethargy for what it was—shock.

“ALEC!” Jace cried. He lunged forward just in time to catch Alec’s head before it collided with the floor. “Dammit, Alec, why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“Because it doesn’t hurt… It doesn’t hurt—not bad… Not badly.” Dazed, dizzy, Alec clawed at Jace’s shoulders, trying to find purchase, an anchor.

“I told you to protect Clary, not get yourself killed!”

Alec sighed and closed his eyes. “Can’t do anything right, can I?”

Jace forcefully arched Alec’s limp knees, levered him up at the waist, and then scooped him up off the floor like he was as light as Max. “I’ve got you, parabatai.” Terror disoriented Jace so quickly and absolutely that he almost dropped Alec on a countertop instead of a mattress. More medics rushed in. Nameless nurses dumped gauze into his fingerless gloves and steered his shaking hands towards the worst bleeders.

Alec ignored the doctors and nurses. He just stared, trembling white lips slightly parted and heavy eyelids turning gray, at his parabatai. His only voluntary movement was clutching Jace’s t-shirt above their rune. “You…This will hurt you, too…I’m sorry,” he whispered, “so sorry.”

Jace immediately leaned over and touched his forehead to his parabatai’s. “No, I’m sorry, Alec. For what I said. For what I assumed—I should’ve known better. I do know better. I know you, Alec. And I’m so very sorry.”

Alec’s body trembled. Tendons in his neck flexed and vibrated. His breathing went from strained to gasping to wheezing. “Jace, it’s strange,” he whispered, “but I can’t feel my—myself.”

“Focus on our bond, Alec. Take my strength.” Someone elbowed Jace in the side but he stood his ground. “You’re already healing. And I’m here. I’m here.” Alec didn’t speak—couldn’t anymore—but his mouth formed Jace’s name. Tears like a flash flood splashed down both of their cheeks. Fresh blood trickling from the corner of Alec’s mouth combined with the tears and dripped down his neck. Dark eyes fluttered. “Fight it, Alec, fight it!” Jace’s escalating high-pitched voice jumped up an octave. “Alec, please, I won’t bury you today!”

“Wayland, step aside!” ordered one of the physicians.

“He’s his parabatai!” said another voice. Isabelle.

“His parabatai will die if he doesn’t let us near all the wounds! All of you—leave this room! Out!”

Jace tried to shift to the left or the right, but nurses blocked his path, their steles sweeping across skin like paintbrushes. “I can’t—I won’t leave him!” Alec’s limp hand began to slip out of his grip. “Alec, I won’t leave you!”

“Get him out of here!”

Hodge’s arms wrapped around Jace’s waist like steel cords and pulled him back. “Alec—ALEC!” Jace reached for Alec’s falling hand, but a faceless figure stepped between them. Simon grabbed his left arm. Izzy grabbed his right. All three pulled him out the door and down the hall past a shell-shocked Robert and Maryse.

\---------

That night the infirmary emptied of everyone but Alec and Jace. Jace scooted his bed next to his parabatai’s so that he could reach over and touch Alec’s runes, check his pulse, or just grip his hand tight. Jace set his cell’s alarm to wake him up every 20 minutes. When he startled awake he immediately reignited the runes slowly healing Alec and/or checked to see if he was conscious yet. It was almost sunrise when his alarm shrilled and he rolled over to find a pair brown eyes blinking at the ceiling. A yelp escaped Jace’s throat. Although he was tempted to sound an alarm and wake up the entire Institute with the good news, Jace, instead, stayed perfectly still, perfectly silent, and waited—patiently—for those eyes to meet his.

Jace Wayland possessed many gifts. Patience was not one of them. Less than 30 seconds passed before he whispered, “Alec. Alec, I’m here.”

Alec’s touch found him before his sight. He flailed his hands in the direction of Jace’s voice and grabbed on tight when he found a t-shirt. Jace’s hands ghosted over his, then lightly hugged his wrists. Alec’s eyes widened to the maximum when he spotted Jace, and he asked, “Is Clary good? Clary… Is she ok?”

It’s not that Jace didn’t expect Alec to be fine. Every medic in the Institute assured him that his parabatai would make a full recovery. So, he knew, in his mind—logically—that it was only a matter of time before he would see Alec again.

His heart was another story. It was scared. Just scared.

And that’s why Jace rolled over in their combined beds right up into Alec’s personal space and clung to him with all four limbs. Alec hugged him back just as hard, but for only half the time when his weak energy levels dipped once more. “You didn’t answer my question,” Alec whispered against Jace’s shoulder. “Clary?”

“Would be dead without you.” Jace rolled back onto his mattress, then swung his feet off it to the floor. With Alec’s hands sandwiched between his own, Jace leaned in close so that his brother wouldn’t have to waste energy on the volume of his voice. “Can’t thank you enough for saving her. Also, don’t think I’ve ever been angrier with you. You could’ve died. All that blood you lost? Alec, it was close.”

Alec’s pale skin reddened somewhat. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bouncing, and stared down at his own hands. “Are there any donuts left?”

Jace didn’t realize that there were tears in his eyes until he snorted, and more than one seeped out. “Look at me.” Two dozen seconds passed before Alec did. “I’m sorry for not trusting you. I’m sorry for not noticing that you were hurt but, buddy, the next time I’m standing there making an ass of myself you have got to stop me, you hear? We may be parabatai but I can’t read your mind—at least, not yet.”

It was Alec’s turn to snort. “That part wasn’t an accident. Clary was hurt. I could stand a few minutes longer.”

“You can’t fool me. You let her get medical attention first because of me—for me. But, Alec, you’ve gotta remember, man. You’re more important to me than anybody. Anybody.”

Alec exhaled a sleepy sigh. “So, you would’ve dropped Clary on the floor and carried me to the infirmary?” he chuckled.

A smile tugged at both corners of Jace’s lips. “No. Nope, no. I would’ve thrown her over my left shoulder and you over my right—and then I would’ve run twice as fast.”

**The End**


	2. Greater Love Hath No Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace volunteers to be a guinea pig when Magnus invents a spell to protect Nephilim from demon possession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very grateful for the positive feedback the first story received! If that one made you cry, then this one might kill you, so, fair warning! Grab some tissues, turn on some of Arn Andersson’s emotional piano music, and enjoy this one!

**Parabatai Pain  
** PenPatronus  
Story #2  
**Greater Love Hath No Man**  


One of the millions of snowflakes falling on New York City snuck through the small space between Alec’s spine and his shirt collar. Magnus saw him shiver and, with a snap of his fingers and a crack of blue magic, extended the translucent umbrella he’d erected above Clary to the rest of the Institute’s roof. Alec gifted Magnus a grateful smile and tugged playfully on the sleeve of the warlock’s maroon velvet jacket when he walked by.

 

“Done!” Clary announced. She popped up to her feet, brushed chalk covered hands down her jeans, and stepped back to examine her art by the moonlight. Magnus pressed a forefinger to his lips and traveled around the hot tub-wide circle of multicolored runes, squinting. Clary glanced at Jace for reassurance. He winked.

 

Magnus clapped his hands once and declared, “Magnificent sigil, biscuit! You must create a piece for my apartment.” He tipped his head towards his boyfriend and asked, “How are you at drawing portraits? Perhaps of a nude model?”

 

A squeak from Isabelle. She covered her mouth, but that did little to stifle her laughter when Alec’s cheeks turned as red as his fletched arrows. Jace saved his _parabatai_ from further embarrassment by unsheathing his stele and approaching the circle like a boxer walking into the ring. “We ready to do this?”

 

Magnus held his hand out for the stele and Jace surrendered it. A swirl of violet, blue, and peach magic exited the warlock’s fingertips and soaked into the tool. “Hop in,” he said, and Jace stepped over the chalk to the empty center of the circle. “ _Carefully_! Don’t smear the chalk! The colors and angles must be exact!”

 

Jace held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t! I’m not!”

 

Clary pulled her down jacket tighter and hiked the collar up to protect her cheeks from the blossoming New York City winter. “Have I mentioned that I don’t like this?”

 

“More than once,” droned Alec, rolling his eyes. He switched his bow from his left shoulder to the right and sighed. “But—for once—Clary and I are on the same page. I don’t like this either. I meant it, Magnus, when I said I wanted to be the one to test this.”

 

“Don’t trust me?” demanded Jace.

 

“I trust you.”

 

“So, it’s Magnus you don’t trust?”

 

“Him I definitely trust.”

 

“Why does he get the ‘definitely’?” Jace scowled. “I’d never say I ‘trust’ you but ‘definitely trust’ Clary!”

 

“He doesn’t trust demons,” Isabelle translated for the group. Her smile looked extra white between fuzzy black earmuffs.

 

“Who does?” Clary pointed out.

 

“I mean he’s worried that the demon could know something we don’t, or have power that Magnus can’t anticipate.”

 

“A reasonable concern,” Magnus agreed. “But! Fortunately for you, Shadowhunters, I didn’t pick the spirit we’re summoning at random. I chose a young demon—barely half a millennia old. Compared to the Greater Demon elders he’s strutting around Hell in diapers. So, even if my new protection spell fails and it possesses Jace, it’ll be easy to separate them.”

 

Jace unzipped his black winter jacket and pinwheeled his arms, making sure that he had his full range of motion despite his thicker winter clothes. “And you’ll separate us how, exactly?” he wondered.

 

Alec cocked a red arrow into his silver bow. “I’ll aim for something fleshy and useless,” he assured his _parabatai_ , “like your ass.” The whole group chuckled when Jace pouted his lips and rubbed his rear end.

 

Isabelle fingered the whip bracelet around her wrist. “Boys, you couldn’t pay me to do this. I still have nightmares about being possessed.” Izzy glanced at her brother and she could tell by how he resisted meeting her gaze that Alec had his fair share of nightmares as well. For someone so committed to protecting people, and so vigilant about controlling his own actions, the demon possession and subsequent murder of Jocelyn left him traumatized. Since then, Magnus had rallied every resource in the international Downworld to create a spell that, once embedded in a stele, would protect any Nephilim from possession. None of them wanted Alec to experience something so horrific ever again.

 

Jace hesitated after Magnus returned his stele. “What do I do—point it? Hold it against my skin? Keep it in my pocket?” he asked.

 

Magnus shrugged. “That’s part of this experiment. If it’s in your pocket, and the demon possesses you then— _voila_ —we’ll know not to do that!”

 

“Comforting. Thanks.” Jace held his stele at arm’s length like it was about to explode. “So, the spell doesn’t need activated?”

 

“Think of it like a seraph blade instead of a rune,” advised Magnus. “Always with you, always ready.”

 

“But it may or may not work,” Isabelle recapped for the group.

 

“Stop reminding me,” Alec hissed. To Jace he said, “If I beg you one last time not to do this, would it change anything?”

 

Jace faked a sudden loss of hearing. “Huh?”

 

“You’re insufferable.” Alec meant the word as an insult, but it came out playful.

 

Jace grinned. “I’m _adorable_.”

 

“Places, everyone,” said Magnus with the panache of the film director. He, Alec, Izzy, and Clary stood shoulder to shoulder outside of the circle. Inside, Jace held his stele like a magic wand. “Putting the wards up now.” Magnus snapped his fingers and a transparent veil immediately separated Jace from them. “Ceremony, incantation, fingers crossed—here we go!” The foreign words Magnus spoke sounded like a lazy combination of Arabic and French. He clucked his tongue at the end of the final sentence and stamped his left foot once as if to squish a cockroach. Ruby light glowed from Isabelle’s necklace. A tornado-shaped swirl of black smoke barely thicker than Jace’s arm descended from the air and wrapped, snakelike, around his ankle.

 

A pair of wide, aqua eyes blinked repeatedly. It looked like the incorporeal demon had just woken from a nap.

 

“Jace? Are you ok?” Clary squirmed at the sight of the aqua-eyed spirit slithering up his leg, across his torso, around his back, and then down his arm towards the glowing stele.

 

“It’s working! I can barely feel it touching me!” Jace shouted over the demon’s feeble grunts and barks. The smoke bumped against the wards and then immediately recoiled. “I think it’s trying to possess me but it—it’s like it can’t find a way inside! Magnus, man, you’re a genius!”

 

The warlock shrugged. He didn’t refute the compliment.

 

“What does it feel like?” Izzy asked.

 

The shadow darted in and out of Jace’s sleeves, and then circled around his golden hair, resembling a black halo. “It feels like, uh…” His face squished up like someone had just opened the dumpster behind Hunter’s Moon. “Ugh, like a slimy tentacle that’s— _that’s kissing me_!”

 

Clary pretended to gag. Magnus snickered. Isabelle told Jace and the demon to “get a room!”

 

It was Alec’s archer eyes that spotted the accumulated snow on Jace’s shoulder. Flakes had coalesced into a thumbnail-sized drop of water, and Jace’s wriggling sent it tumbling down towards the fragile sigil. Water splashed across a triangle of pumpkin-colored chalk and smeared it with a teal and green circle. “ _Magnus_!” The other four didn’t hear him over their laughter. The aqua-eyed demon suddenly slipped up towards the sky like a cloud had sipped it through a straw. A beat of loud silence—a distant echo like a door flying off its hinges—and then a roaring column of blackness descended and skewered Jace like an axe through wood. Dark smoke, tinted with a fiery neon rainbow, invaded his body head to toe. Jace collapsed onto his back, silent. Still.

 

All of them—even Magnus—bounced off the wards in a rush to reach Jace. Clary scratched at the veil with dull nails and screamed for him to wake up. Izzy shouted for Magnus to disable the shields, but he silenced her with a look. “I’m sorry, Alexander!” the warlock said. “The sigil was corrupted. If there’s different, stronger demon in him now it could—”

 

“Just get him out of there!” Alec snapped. He knelt in front of Izzy and begged Jace to wake up.

 

Unfortunately, the thing that woke up was _not_ Jace.

 

Black eyes burst open from corpse-grey eyelids. A stunned Alec fell back against Izzy’s knees, palm against his mouth. Courage trickled down and out of his spine and evaporated. Two pairs of arms wrapped around Alec’s middle and pulled him up and away. Izzy. Magnus. “There’s no telling what demon we’re dealing with now! Alexander, the moment I drop the wards you have to shoot!”

 

Izzy and Clary helped Alec stand and fumble with his weapons. Jace’s eyes like raven’s feathers bore into and through Alec, and he found himself unable to look away. The demon rose to its feet without using any of Jace’s muscles. Sparks like fireflies hovered around its fingers and erupted from its lungs. A voice like a seraph sword dragged across gravel spoke Alec’s name with Jace’s lips. Magnus shouted for Izzy and Clary to fall back and after a brief argument, the two girls retreated to the furthest corner of the roof, blades held up defensively.

 

“Alec!” Magnus shook the archer’s arm to get his attention. “Don’t hesitate! You hear me? I know it’s Jace, but don’t hesitate for a second.”

 

Alec nodded, jaw clenched. He leveled the arrow directly at those hypnotizing eyes, then aimed for the left arm. Magnus’ magic swirled around the roof. The warlock counted, snapped his fingers, and hollered, “ _Alec_ , _NOW_!”

 

A quick prayer for Jace to forgive him. Alec sent the arrow.

 

Demon-Jace twisted as he leapt into the air. He caught the arrow, but not with his hands. The entire Institute shook when he landed on one knee, black eyes blazing, arrow clenched between his teeth. Above, Magnus’ sheltering bubble exploded. Freezing, bleached confetti-like snow made them feel like they were in the heart of a snow globe. Alec summoned his courage—splinters to a magnet—and reloaded. This time he aimed at Jace’s shoulder, but cocked his ring finger so that, like a curveball thrown by a baseball pitcher, the arrow would swerve. Alec was seconds—only _one_ second away from firing.

 

And that was when the sensation of a thousand bee stings pricked his _parabatai_ rune.

 

Alec screamed so loudly with pain that he briefly deafened himself, and then his ears started to ring. The archer’s bow dropped, useless, onto the roof. The thin layer of stones cut his knees when he fell, both hands clasped against the throbbing, searing rune. Demon-Jace laughed with his entire body—a high-pitched cackle of glee. It ran its twinkling fingers through Jace’s blond hair. “I’ve never possessed a _parabatai_ before. Quite a sensation!” the spirit said low and slow and with Jace’s mouth. His voice resembled bricks rolling downhill.

 

A wash of red. Magnus raised swirling magic to keep the demon at a distance. “Alexander— _Alec_! What is it?”

 

“I, I can—” Alec gasped, “I can feel it! The demon in Jace, I…” Alec dug all ten of his fingernails into his scalp and cried out again. “ _Magnus, it wants our souls_!”

 

Demon-Jace resembled a curious scientist when he furrowed his brow and tapped a finger against his lips. “Pain. Intention. If I can push pain and intention from one _parabatai_ to the other, what else can I do?”

 

“ _Oh, no_ —” Suddenly on his feet, Alec reared up onto his tiptoes like a fishhook had impaled his chin. Arms splayed, fingers twitching, he resembled a man being crucified. Alec clenched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they were black as lead.

 

“Alec!” the girls cried.

 

“Double possession!” Demon-Jace cocked his blond head to the side, curious. “Worth writing Hell about, don’t you think? Now why don’t we…we try…um…” Jace’s body swayed left and right, forward and backward. Blue and green eyes replaced the black. The black returned after a blink, then switched again. Jace collapsed to one knee, then the other. Blood seeped from one nostril.

 

Like clipped wings, Alec’s arms fell to his sides. He stumbled and almost fell, but Magnus rushed over to prop him up. “ _Alexander_?”

 

Alec wiped away the blood from his nose. “It can’t fully control both of us at the same time,” he gasped. “Takes too much of its energy, too much of—” Alec stiffened. His mouth closed, opened, and then closed again.

 

“Alexander?”

 

“Magnus!” a familiar voice called. Magnus, Clary, and Izzy all pivoted towards the sigil. Jace—the real Jace—slammed his fists against the red lights and shouted, “ _It’s in_ _him_!”

 

Magnus managed only one trick before Demon-Alec punched him in the side of the head and kicked him aside where he landed, unconscious: he erased every level of protective red magic, and Jace bounded forward like an unleashed lion. One _parabatai_ tackled the other and the pair went rolling across the roof. Clary and Isabelle sprinted to the left and right, prepared to attack with their seraph blades.

 

Jace briefly stunned Demon-Alec with an elbow to the eye and a punch to the kidney. He shifted his weight to pin Alec’s arms and hold him down but, before he could, the demon sent itself back through the _parabatai_ bond, and Jace punched his own mouth. Black-eyed Demon-Jace laughed at the blood on his own bruised knuckles. “Forcing two brothers to kill each other? Wow—this is the most fun I’ve had in a millennium!” it declared. It kicked Alec in the stomach, traded _parabatai_ so that he could make Alec do the same to Jace, and then back switched again. “This should be part of Hell’s Olympics!” said Demon-Jace. “What a workout!”

 

Alec spat blood. “Jace,” he gasped. The elder Lightwood blocked a right cross, then skirted behind his attacker and up to his feet. “Jace if you’re in there, if you can hear me…” Demon-Jace aimed a roundhouse kick at Alec’s head that barely missed. “Jace, can you control it? Can you hear me? _What do we do_?”

 

“We’ll scoop up a few _parabatai_ ,” the demon said to itself, still preoccupied with its Olympics idea. “Each demon gets a pair to play with. We double-possess them, make them fight to the death—last _parabatai_ standing wins! And then the possessing demon gets his head for a trophy!”

 

Alec rolled between Demon-Jace’s legs, but didn’t get his own up fast enough to wrap his ankles around the torso. “ _Izzy_?”

 

“Get it to hold still and stop switching!” Isabelle shouted. “I can’t—Alec, what if I stab the wrong one?”

 

“ _Stab us both_!” Demon-Jace headbutted Alec when he answered his sister. The demon dove into the Lightwood again, aimed black eyes at Isabelle and, in a pathetic impersonation of Alec, said, “Save us, Izzy! You’re our only hope! _Ha_!”

 

Jace somersaulted backwards and then, like a linebacker, sprinted forward and rammed into Demon-Alec’s chest with all his strength. Alec’s body fell back against the outer brick wall of the roof. The demon wrapped his hands around Jace’s neck, but not before the Shadowhunter said, “I can hear you. _I can hear you, Alec!”_

Demon-Alec changed to Demon-Jace. Both Shadowhunters strangled the other’s throat. The demon lowered its voice—a shift from casual playfulness to debilitating cruelty. “Jace wanted to be the guinea pig to show off in front of Clary,” Demon-Jace told Alec, “not because he wanted to protect you!”

 

Alec struggled to inhale enough air to form a sentence.

 

The demon dropped the Olympics fantasies and continued its taunts. “What a smug buzzkill you are! Always so serious, so self-involved. You used to have so much fun together when you were kids! Now he’d rather spend time with Clary than you. He’d rather get kicked in the balls than hear you talk one more time about duty and honor and loyalty— _blah, blah, blah_! You queer, cowardly, boring son of a bitch!”

 

Alec felt his face burn red. More spit than syllables came out when he grunted, “Gotta stab me, Jace! Next time it’s in me you have to banish—!”

 

The demon swung Alec around by his neck. By the time Alec rolled to a stop in front of the door, the demon had returned to him. It cracked his neck to the side and then rolled, stretched it, before cracking all ten knuckles, one by one. “You wanna know what Alec sees when he looks at you?” Demon-Alec asked Jace. “An irresponsible child desperate for attention. A disloyal brat who should be on a leash. Worse—a burden!”

 

Jace got up. He ducked one punch, then caught the other fist. “Alec, I can’t, I’m sorry. I won’t risk killing you!” Jace shoved Demon-Alec around face-first against the door. “Put an arrow through me! You hear me? Sorry to burden you, brother, but you have to!”

 

Demon-Alec’s elbow hit Jace’s sternum. “He looks down on you. You’re beneath him, less than him. He’s Shadowhunter royalty and you’re just an orphan nobody really wanted. Alec is sick and tired of being your sidekick! Tired of you risking his life, his family, the entire Institute just to trick some random slut into bed!”

 

Jace grinded his teeth together. “Kill me if you have to, ALEC! Just end this!”

 

Demon-Alec slid a knee under one of Jace’s and tripped them both. “He wishes his parents had never taken you in! His life would be so much easier, much safer if you were never born!” A horrific cackle of a laugh from deep in the demon’s core. “You know what, Jace, between you and me? It’s so hard to decide which one of you to keep and which to throw off the roof!” it hissed. “But I think you win—you win because your blood is different. Special. There’s untapped potential in you that could really come in handy. Such rage—such frustration! So, my friend, you should say ‘goodbye’ to Alec now. You really should, because I’m going to make you murder him.”

 

Jace felt the tears in his throat before they left his eyes. “ _ALEC_ —”

 

Alec’s eyes turned brown. Jace’s turned black.

 

Exhausted, breathless, Alec spotted and reached for an arrow he’d dropped a lifetime ago, but a black boot stamped down hard on his bare hand. Demon-Jace picked the arrow up, twirled it in his right hand, then raised it over Alec’s heart. Alec began to get up from his knees—began, but stopped. He collapsed onto bare, scraped-up knees. “Sorry, Jace.” He allowed his hands to lie still in his lap, allowed his blood to drip, ignored. “I won’t risk killing you, either.”

 

Jace’s left forefinger slid under Alec’s chin and lifted it until their eyes met. “He’s _screaming_ ,” Demon-Jace whispered. He tapped blond hair to indicate Jace’s mind. “Screaming so loud. Such desperation! He’s trying hard, so hard to stop me, to just get me to hesitate another minute, another second. My, my. This would break my heart if I had one.”

 

Alec coughed on a mouthful of blood.

 

“Before you die and I enslave your _parabatai_ forever, Lightwood, do you have any last words? Do you want to tell your brother that you love him, one last time?”

 

Alec’s throat hurt. His everything hurt. He was barely more than a bruise. “You—like everyone else—you don’t get it. You don’t understand what it means to be _parabatai_.” Alec didn’t want to see those black eyes anymore, so he closed his brown ones and bowed his head in surrender. His trembling hands gestured at his submissive, martyr posture and he said, “ _Jace and I don’t need words_.”

 

A cackling, delighted Demon-Jace twirled the arrow and plunged it down.

 

What Alec would’ve seen if he’d opened his eyes: the twirling arrow spun one last time before it collided with his chest.

 

It took everything Jace had. Everything he had in him to control his fingers for just that one millisecond. And in that millisecond, he rotated the arrow so that instead of piercing Alec’s chest, the tip stabbed his own. Somewhere behind the scene, Clary and Isabelle screamed.

 

Because of momentum, because of gravity and weight and angle and the instant shock and paralysis, Jace’s body kept falling forward. Alec’s arrow slipped in between the first and second ribs on the right side of his chest, and the tip nicked his spine as it exited out his back. Shrieking black smoke poured out of the exit wound. Wisps shaped like fingers tried to claw at the bodies. Two seraph blades soared through the air and plunged through the smoke.

 

The demon disintegrated.

 

The roof went mute.

 

Jace’s cheek landed on Alec’s shoulder and Alec, who expected to feel cold metal instead of warm skin, opened his eyes in surprise. That pair of beautifully mismatched eyes was the best thing he’d ever seen.

 

The blood was the worst.

 

“No, _no_ , _NO_.” Alec wrapped his arms around Jace and shifted so that his knee supported the limp body. Jace’s muscles didn’t even flex, let alone make any kind of move to keep his body upright. Alec spotted blood on his _parabatai’s_ lips. “Dammit, Jace, you should’ve just stabbed me!” Alec’s rune boiled, throbbed, cramped. A sob started to inflate in the deepest part of chest. “Hang on. I love you,” Alec gulped. “I love you. Hang on, Jace, hang on.”

 

“Didn’t I hear you say that _parabatai_ don’t need words?” Jace croaked. “You’re saying a lot of words…”

 

“I—Izzy! Clary!” Alec’s voice broke—shattered. “ _Magnus_!”

 

Jace flinched. “And you’re saying them loudly…” Magnus, Clary, and Isabelle surrounded them. Two steles and two orbs of golden magic went to work. Jace smiled with red teeth. “Next time you’re the guinea pig.”

 

“You’re insufferable,” Alec sniffed. 

 

Jace smiled. “ _You’re_ adorable.”

 

Fresh snowflakes fell. Several landed on Jace’s face and Alec used his pinky to swipe them aside. White snow mixed with red blood which mixed with the colors of the desolated sigil: tree bark, mango, ruby, robin’s egg, silver, ash black… The cold puddle beneath the dying _parabatai_ turned gray…

 

\---------

 

A warm hand perched on Magnus’ forehead. He jumped, instantly awake, then relaxed just as fast at the sight of his boyfriend’s pale face. “Jace—is he in pain?” he croaked. “I’m coming. I’m getting up.”

 

Alec didn’t move his hand. “Even if you took everyone’s strength you wouldn’t have the energy for anymore healing,” he whispered fondly.

 

Magnus frowned at the unfamiliar mattress beneath his back and the colorless ceiling beyond Alec’s face. “Where—? Did I pass out?” 

 

“We’re still in the Institute infirmary. It’s morning.” The dark half-moons beneath Alec’s soft eyes crinkled with slight amusement. “You refused to stop even when you healed Jace as much as warlock-ly possible, so I think you de-aged him by a couple years.”

 

“He’s ok?”

 

“He’s awake. Thought you might want to know.”

 

Magnus blinked fast to keep his tears invisible. “Alexander, I swear, if I had any doubt that spell wouldn’t work I wouldn’t have put Jace in dang—”

 

Alec, in a rare public display of affection, pressed his lips against Magnus’. The touch was soft, but the unspoken words were deafening.

 

Simon and Clary escorted Magnus home so that Alec could stay with his _parabatai_. Jace had been moved to his own room. When Alec returned, he found the shirtless, sweatpants-clad Jace in the middle of the room, hunched over a chair he was using like a walker. Alec gently pulled Jace’s arm across his shoulders, walked him back to the bed, and covered his legs with blankets. Then, he went to the minifridge Jace was aiming for, and took every plate and bowl and bottle. He spread them across Jace’s lap like he was a Thanksgiving table.

 

Jace patted the empty mattress space beside him. Alec toed off his shoes and sat with his back against the headboard.

 

They ate in silence.

 

When the pain got bad, Alec activated Jace’s runes in silence.

 

When the memories got bad, Jace cradled Alec in silence.

 

And, finally, when the silence was too silent, they reminisced about the demon making Jace punch his own face, and shared the very loudest laughs.

 

**The End**


	3. Hitler's Warlocks, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue warlocks kidnap and torture the Lightwoods. Takes place after “Beside Still Waters.”

**Parabatai Pain**  
PenPatronus  
Story #3  
Part 1  
**Hitler’s Warlocks**

 

Jace woke up spread-eagled on his back alone, dizzy, shirtless, shoeless. One flickering, dust-covered lightbulb hung from an arched iron ceiling and rocked back and forth like a hypnotist’s watch. Shaking fingers fumbled for a stele, a seraph blade, a seraph knife, a cell phone… Jace had nothing to keep him company but his thick black pants and a peculiar smell coming from a narrow air vent next to the lightbulb. He wasn’t sure if it was bad fish, sour milk, or good cheese. Maybe a combination…?

 

Rolling onto his stomach felt like trying to do the backstroke through quicksand. When he landed, cheek pressed against an ice cube of a floor, he wiggled his hands beneath his chest and pushed. His groan echoed back at him. The iron, oval-shaped room was no longer than 12 feet and no wider than 8. Flecks of blood decorated the gray floor, and Jace discovered the source when he ran his hands through his blond hair. Whoever or whatever jumped him sliced him open from the top of his left ear down to the space between his shoulder blades.

 

Soft blue light caught his attention. There was a circular window halfway up the wall. A porthole, Jace realized. You’ve got to be kidding me, he thought to himself. And, when he managed to get to his feet and look through the porthole he said out loud, “ _You’ve got to be kidding me_!”

 

Harsh squeaks from hinges behind him. Jace turned to watch a thick watertight door shaped like a cambered tombstone swing forward. Holding the wheel lock on the other side was a bald Caucasian man. He had dark eyes, a soldier’s posture, wide shoulders, heavy boots, and an all-black uniform Jace didn’t recognize. For a moment, Jace thought that the rune on the left side of the stranger’s neck marked him as a Circle member, but then he noticed an odd design repeated around the center: marks that resembled deer legs or lightning bolts. It looked familiar— _felt_ familiar—but Jace couldn’t place it.

 

Jace bent his knees like a linebacker. But, before he could charge at the bald soldier, the man yanked a smaller figure forward by a shirt collar. Jace’s stomach dropped, bounced, and then dropped again. “ _Max_!”

 

12-year-old Max Lightwood blinked at his older brother with one eye—the other was swollen shut and black and blue. The bald soldier unsheathed a thick handgun and shoved the barrel against Max’s skull. “ _Behave_ ,” he bellowed in an unfamiliar accent. Max—brave, reckless Max wearing tan slacks, sneakers, and a maroon sweater, kept his chin tilted up and blinked away every tear that tried to escape. Jace immediately held his palms up and backed up to the opposite wall. Mundane weapons were foreign to him, but he knew they could kill.

 

Two more people entered the hallway beyond. A man who resembled the bald soldier escorted a limping Isabelle to the door. Both sleeves of Izzy’s knee-length, pleated burgundy dress were torn down to her elbows. Jace was certain that her thick black hair was in a tight French braid the last time he saw her, but now it was piled high and loose like a bird’s nest on the crown of her head. The ankle she favored looked as bruised and puffy as Max’s eye.

 

“You behave, too,” Bald told her. Izzy didn’t make eye contact, didn’t make a sound. Obediently she stepped over the tall threshold and entered the iron room with her hands folded in front. Her escort looked so much like Bald that he had to be his brother—his identical twin, Jace realized, when he got a better look. Identical uniforms, identical rune, identical boots, identical height, identical face. The biggest difference was the hair. Unlike his bald twin, this man had long, thick hair as dark as his eyes. It was braided starting at the nape of his neck, and stretched all the way down to his waist.

 

Izzy stood beside Jace against the back wall. Bald and Braid gave the pair a last sneer, had Max wave a mournful goodbye, and then shut and locked the door.

 

“Oh, no,” Izzy groaned. She clutched Jace’s left wrist with both hands and took her weight completely off her injured ankle. Hot tears burst from her eyes like water from a failed dam. “They—Jace—those bastards, they hurt M-Max, I—” Izzy teetered on her one bare foot. Jace hugged her around the waist and gradually lowered them both to sit on the floor. “And I heard—did you hear? I heard Alec…” Ten manicured nails dug into Jace’s shoulders. Salty tears collided with black mascara and left a black river in their wake as they descended her cheeks. “He was screaming, Jace—God, Jace, Alec was _screaming_!”

 

Jace gripped the hair behind Izzy’s neck and pulled her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed big, echoing hiccups. Jace pressed his chin against her head, then adjusted the angle so that he could see the bottom left quadrant of his torso. Relief fresh as a spring breeze briefly relaxed him. His _parabatai_ rune ached, but it was there.

 

“We’re on a submarine,” Jace said after Izzy calmed down.

 

“I know,” she sniffed. “They had me in the kitchen. There was a porthole. Jace, they…” Isabelle trembled as she inhaled, and stammered when she spoke. “Those m-men. They’re G-German, I think. They interrogated me, asked questions about New York, about the Institute, and a-about you.”

 

Jace shifted his weight and encouraged Izzy to look at him by sliding his forefinger under her chin. “Me?”

 

Izzy nodded. “I think they worked for Valentine. They knew him, at least, because they’re looking for his children. They wanted to make sure they captured his son—they still think you’re his son. Jace, I, I refused to tell them anything, I swear. B-but they had Max—they threatened to k-kill him—”

 

“Shhh,” Jace soothed. “It’s ok, Izzy. You did the right thing. I would’ve done the same.” He rubbed her arms until the goosebumps retreated from her skin. “Is, um…” His throat closed and he had to cough to open it again. “Alec. Do you know what they did to him? Where he is?”

 

Her hair bounced when she shook her head. A sob accompanied each syllable when she said, “I saw blood in the hall. God, Jace, there was a lot of blood. What if he’s—”

 

“He’s not,” Jace cut her off with his sternest voice. He took her hand and held her fingers against his _parabatai_ rune. “I can feel him, Iz. He’s still with me—he’s with us.”

 

Izzy rubbed her thumb across the rune like it was Alec’s cheek. “I don’t remember what happened,” she whispered. “We were walking to Magnus’ loft, weren’t we?”

 

“Max was telling us about Magnus’ life-sized Candyland game,” Jace recalled. “Said it took up the whole apartment—even the roof. That’s the last thing I remember.”

 

“Alec bought Max a snow cone.” Izzy sniffed, then grinned wide—almost manically. “His tongue was s-so b-blue.”

 

Familiar squeaks. Light snuck through the door and screams followed it. A howl—feral, raw. Izzy clasped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut tight. Jace’s blood pressure jumped. His pulse raced and his blood boiled. Twinges traveled up to his heart from his parabatai rune. The twinges accelerated into cramps, and then the cramps into spikes of pain. Jace’s nostrils flared and his cheeks inflated.

 

Alec was in agony.

 

The third man looked identical to Bald and Braid. Triplets, Jace realized. Except, this one wore his dark hair as a mohawk. When he smiled, Jace noticed that his teeth were filed into fangs. Mohawk nudged the door open wider so that Max could walk through. He carried a small red backpack, four bottles of water, and a brown paper bag overflowing with sandwiches. The moment he crossed the threshold he dropped everything, sprinted to his siblings, and threw himself into Izzy’s lap. The Lightwoods formed a small dogpile: Izzy folding on top of Max and Jace wrapping his arms around them both.

 

“Oh, shucks, now isn’t that ssssssweet,” Mohawk said, hissing the last word through his front teeth. “What a precious moment. Picture perfect!” Mohawk made a square with his thumbs and forefingers and pretended to take a picture. “ _Click_. Think I’ll frame that and send it to your mother. They’ll never find your bodies, so she can hug it at your funerals!”

 

Rage launched Jace to his feet. Mohawk unsheathed a gun and aimed it, but Jace knew that his body was between the bullets and his siblings, and didn’t stop. Less than a second before Jace’s outstretched fingers reached the exposed throat, Mohawk lifted his other hand and launched a disc of violet and mustard-colored light at his chest. Izzy screamed when the light slammed into Jace’s body like a Medieval mace. He tumbled backwards—head over heels—so hard that he knocked Max and Isabelle over—a bowling ball through pins. Mohawk’s cackle echoed through their prison. They could still hear him laugh even after he shut the door.

 

Max and Izzy hurried to Jace’s side and helped him sit up. Jace tasted blood on his lower lip. He sucked up a mouthful and then spat it at the door. “Thought they were Mundanes,” he grunted, hugging his bruised stomach. “Maybe rogue Shadowhunters with human weapons but…” Jace cursed to himself and fell back, limp, against the wall. “They’re warlocks…”

 

Izzy ripped off what remained of her left sleeve and pressed the fabric against the reopened cut on Jace’s head. “Recognize that symbol?” she asked quietly. Max wiped his nose on his sweater and overturned the red backpack. Medical supplies tumbled out: gauze, bandages, band-aids, Mundane pills, and various contraptions the Shadowhunters didn’t recognize. Izzy thanked him with a smile and replaced the fabric with a thick bandage. “The circle on their necks? The squiggles inside—like a pulsing star. Recognize it?”

 

Max spoke for the first time. “It’s the symbol of the Black Sun,” he mumbled. “According to Shadowhunter history, those warlocks all died during the First World War.”

 

“Second,” Izzy corrected gently. “World War Two began when the Nazis invaded Poland.”

 

Max handed Jace a water bottle and he swallowed half of it in one gulp. “Nazis…” he whispered, mostly to himself. “Black Sun… You don’t mean—?”

 

“Both the Moscow and London Institutes claimed they were all killed, but, looks like at least three of them got out of Berlin,” Izzy sighed. “Jace… What the hell do Hitler’s Warlocks want with _us_?”

 

Once again, the iron door squeaked open. No sneers, this time. No guns or verbal jabs. The three Lightwoods watched, stunned, as three silhouettes counted down from three in the German language, then swung a body into the room.

 

“ _Dammit_ —!” Jace dove and got his hands under Alec one miraculous moment before he hit the unforgiving floor. All four limbs crashed, but the Shadowhunter’s head landed safely in his _parabatai’s_ arms. Izzy and Max scurried over and helped Jace arrange Alec’s limp form into a comfortable position: hands on his stomach, legs lying flat, spine propped up against Jace’s leg and his cheek against Jace’s shoulder. Like Jace, Alec’s shoes, weapons, and shirt were missing. Cold water soaked his skin, black hair, and dark blue jeans. Max took his sweater off and used it to mop up the water pooling on Alec’s eyelids and upper lip. Izzy started unwrapping packages of gauze.

 

“Alec!” Jace whimpered. “Alec? God, you’re freezing cold.” He pulled his unconscious brother closer to share the heat. Jace saw but ignored the red in his peripheral vision. Izzy and Max could handle the stitching and bandaging. The world shrunk. They were the only two hearts beating in it. Jace no longer heard Izzy’s sniffles or Max’s grunts of frustration. Nothing made a sound except for Alec’s breaths. Jace didn’t realize that the tears he’d been holding back got free until more water droplets landed on Alec’s neck.

 

“Alec, I’m here, I’ve got you,” Jace whispered. Greasy blond bangs hung in front of his eyes and he left them there. “Please… Please, _Parabatai_.” The elder Lightwood’s nose twitched like a rabbit’s. Jace had to clench his jaw to keep it from vibrating. “You don’t have to move, Alec,” Jace told him. “You don’t even have to open your eyes. Just…” Jace fumbled for Alec’s hand and only found it with Izzy’s help. “Just squeeze my hand, all right? Just a quick squeeze. You can do that—I know you can. I…”

 

He saw it, then. It went unnoticed for so long because it was on top of the Deflect rune. Bald, Braid, and / or Mohawk had added a new rune to Alec’s neck.

 

He was branded with the Black Sun.

 

**To Be Continued**


	4. Hitler's Warlocks, Part 2

**Parabatai Pain  
** PenPatronus  
Story #3  
Part 2  
**Hitler’s Warlocks**

 

**EARLIER**

 

Alec watched a school of fish swim, upside down, past the windshield.

 

No, I’m upside down, not them, Alec remembered, feeling the cold tile floor beneath his naked back. And it’s probably not called a windshield. It’s a submarine, so… water shield? He decided that he needed a blood shield. So much of his was scattered around the cockpit. It dripped from the dagger they used…

 

“You can let up,” said an accented voice on his right. “He’s just about had it.” Alec blinked up at the man with the mohawk sitting in the captain’s chair with his feet propped up on the old-fashioned spoked circle steering wheel. His one brother stopped pinning down Alec’s ankles, and the other finally took his weight off Alec’s numb left arm. Pins and needles dashed up and down the Shadowhunter’s limbs and he would’ve shaken them like wet dog shakes its body if he only had the strength. Mohawk man owned his strength now…

 

Alec never hesitated to let Magnus borrow his strength to magnify his magic. Like the first time, when the warlock needed to heal Luke, Alec offered it willingly, freely, without hesitation, and without holding anything back. Magnus knew when to stop. He described it like an ocean tide tugging on his ankles. If Alec’s body couldn’t sacrifice anymore, then it would automatically pull back, and Magnus would release it.

 

This was different. This warlock with a shark’s fin for hair didn’t ask, he stole. This warlock didn’t stop.

 

This warlock was killing him.

 

While his brothers held Alec down, Mohawk man took his right hand and leeched the Shadowhunter’s strength out bit by bit until Alec could no longer move, no longer do much more than twitch and watch the fish swim by. He nearly passed out—definitely stood, teetering, on the brink of unconsciousness—when the Mohawk man finally let go. Alec’s throat felt dry and sore. The violation—stealing his energy instead of requesting it—felt similar to how others described a feeding vampire. Except, this felt like vampire fangs piercing every inch of his body down to the bone. Alec didn’t stop screaming until he was hoarse.

 

Now that Alec was drained, helpless, the three brothers stood over him, smirking. Mohawk man sighed deeply, enjoying the breath. “Haven’t felt this strong in months!” he exclaimed. “You gotta take a hit of this one when he’s all rested up. Think I stole some of his _parabatai’s_ strength, too.”

 

The man with the braid frowned. “He’s a _parabatai_?” Mohawk man tapped his toe against Alec’s rune. “Rare! Haven’t seen one since Kristallnacht.”

 

“Think he’s paired with Valentine’s boy. Didn’t you see the expression on his face when Eugene dragged him to the brig? _Priceless_.”

 

Eugene, the bald brother, chuckled deep down in his belly. “You wanna see priceless, Gabe? The boy weeping over his sister—what a pansy.”

 

Alec’s fog of a brain finally placed both the accent and the runes on the triplets’ necks. The Black Sun symbol wasn’t a warlock rune, Alec recalled. It was a tattoo. A magical one.

 

More fireworks in his mind. Suddenly he remembered who and _what_ the members of the Black Sun were. “Nazis,” he gulped. “Nazi warlocks. _Fantastic_ …”

 

“They’ll all make fine batteries.” Gabe wore the braid. His cologne made Alec’s eyes water. “Rumor has it _parabatai_ can sometimes double their strength. This one will be a regular Energizer bunny for us.”

 

Gabe kicked Alec’s bare foot. “Time to ink him up, eh, Roger?”

 

Mohawk man left and returned with an ivory porcelain vial. He was fussing with the cork when Alec croaked, “He isn’t Valentine’s.”

 

The triplets stared down at him. “Come again?” asked Roger.

 

Alec licked his lips. He’d bitten his tongue at some point, and now it sat swollen and almost useless in his mouth. “Jace isn’t Valentine’s son.”

 

Gabe and Eugene glared daggers at Roger. “Don’t listen to him,” Roger insisted, running his palms across the buzzed hair on either side of the mohawk. “This kid will say anything to protect his _parabatai_.”

 

“I’m not lying,” Alec whispered.

 

More glares. “My informant in Valentine’s ranks gave a detailed description: blond, Speed rune up the right side of his neck, one eye blue and the other mostly brown. We have the right Shadowhunter!”

 

“And if we don’t?” Eugene gestured wildly with his hands when he spoke. “If we want Valentine to exclude us from this purge of his, we can’t bargain for our lives with the wrong guy! Dammit—we should’ve gone after his daughter.”

 

“Valentine’s dead,” Alec told them.

 

Eugene snorted. “Nice try. We heard he was on the move a week ago.”

 

“And he was killed two days later. Saw his body myself.”

 

All three faces wore the same astounded expression: jaw slack, eyes wide, skin pale.

 

“You’re safe now—we all are—he’ll never threaten the Shadow World again. Valentine’s gone and the angel isn’t going to wipe out all demon-blooded beings. So, you might as well let us go. Maybe celebrate his death with some cake—”

 

Gabe held up both hands and enveloped Alec in a bubble of freezing water. Alec’s teeth instantly started chattering and water got in his mouth. He choked, coughed, struggled to keep his throat clear but his body was so weak—there was so little to fight back with—and within 20 seconds Alec started to drown… Through the translucent bubble he saw the three warlocks arguing. They must have come to some conclusion, because the bubble suddenly disintegrated. Alec gargled the remaining water. He spat out most, and swallowed the rest. Coughing robbed all his remaining energy.

 

A small smile twitched in the corner of Eugene’s lips. “Don’t worry, kid, we’ll still make use of you. Plan B it is!”

 

Roger overturned the porcelain vial and emptied a drop of dark liquid into a shallow gold bowl that Gabe held. “Blood from the Fuehrer himself,” Roger bragged, shaking the football-sized container. “The Mundanes who wrote the history books always wondered why Hitler lost so much blood when he committed suicide,” Roger laughed. The triplets drew knives across their own forearms and, together, filled up the gold bowl with their blood. Gabe got out a primitive set of needles while Eugene forcibly turned Alec’s head to the side, exposing the Deflect rune on the left side of his neck.

 

“What are you doing?” Alec whispered.

 

“You and your friends are going to be our batteries for the rest of your lives!” Roger said. “Once a Shadowhunter is tattooed with our blood and our symbol, we can ‘borrow’ his strength at any time, from anywhere in the world. Comes in real handy during battle. If I get a little weak, I’ll just steal your energy! And we’ll need it for our next plan—taking out the High Warlock of Brooklyn and ruling over New York City!”

 

Alec couldn’t help but laugh. It came out as a dry cough but, somehow, decreased the weight on his chest. “You three want to challenge Magnus Bane?” he whispered.

 

The brothers shared identical surprised looks. “You know that son of a bitch warlock?” Roger demanded.

 

Alec would chuckle if he could. “You kidnapped the wrong Shadowhunters, buddy… When Magnus sees what you’ve done to me, he’ll _obliterate_ you.”

 

Roger snorted. “A little advice? Threats should be at least a little believable. We’ve never met Bane, but everyone in the Downworld knows he’d never _associate_ with Shadowhunters.”

 

Alec smiled inwardly. Associate? he thought. He does a lot more than… Associate.

 

Gabe dipped the first needle into the blood ink. The warlock spoke, but not in English or German. Blue sparks left his throat with his next exhale, and the magic turned the red ink black. Before Alec could prepare himself, let alone protest, the needle stabbed his skin…

 

\---------

 

**PRESENT**

 

Izzy grazed her thumb over the Black Sun on Alec’s neck. “It’s not burned into him,” she said. “It’s a tattoo. That’s ink.”

 

“Why would Hitler’s warlocks put a tattoo on a Shadowhunter?” Jace wondered.

 

Max stood biting his thumbnail with his t-shirt collar stretched over his chin, in the opposite corner of the brig. “Is Alec alive?” he asked for the fifth time.

 

For the fifth time, both Izzy and Jace said, “ _Yes_.”

 

“Makes me sick,” he admitted quietly, hands on his stomach. “Nauseated, you know? I’ve seen blood before but it—it’s _Alec’s_. It’s different. Why does it feel _different_?” Isabelle waved for Max to come closer but he shook his head and started pacing.

 

Jace suddenly grabbed Izzy’s hand and held it against Alec’s forehead. She agreed that he had a fever. “Jace, we have to get him to Magnus quick. I don’t know what that tattoo is supposed to do to him, but it can’t be anything good.” Jace touched Alec’s _parabatai_ rune, and then his own. Izzy noticed. She touched his cheek, and then felt his forehead. “How do you feel?”

 

“Tired,” Jace decided. He looked over at Max and stared at him as he spoke. “How the hell are we going to get out of this, Iz? No steles, no weapons, no way for Clary and the others to track us. And not only is this ship warded, it’s underwater! Let’s say we took the warlocks out, brought down the wards, and got to the front door—well, then what? What the hell are we supposed to do?”

 

Isabelle squinted. “We’ve been so busy…” She spoke slowly, steadily, monotone. “Barely caught our breath. Jace, I’ve been meaning to ask you what happened at Lake Lynn.”

 

Jace looked in every direction except hers. “There’s nothing more to say. Valentine stabbed me in the heart and… And then, next thing I know, I’m alive again. Izzy, is this really the time to—”

 

“Time out.” Izzy placed her right palm horizontally over her left fingers. “I’m not talking about that trip to Idris. I’m talking about when Clary drank the lake water and started hallucinating. “I saw it, Jace. I saw your eyes—I saw _you_.”

 

“Saw what?”

 

Izzy tossed her hands up into the air in disgust. “Your eyes turned gold, dummy! Your iratze glowed and Clary snapped out of it! Jace, you can activate your runes without a stele!”

 

Jace busied himself with Alec’s damp hair. Long calloused fingers smoothed it down flat, and then carefully, softly, parted it. Jace’s thumb traced every stray hair and lined it up straight.

 

Izzy straightened. If she was a cartoon a lit lightbulb would’ve magically appeared above her head. “Maybe that’s what brought you back to life! Somehow you ignited your healing rune—”

 

“No!” Jace said sharper than he intended. “I wasn’t just dead, Isabelle, I was _gone_. I…” A deep breath expanded Jace’s chest. He inhaled and exhaled three more times to calm himself down. “I don’t know how I activated that rune. It’s happened before, and I couldn’t control it then, either.”

 

“Before? How many times?”

 

“At least three times that I know of…”

 

“Angel…” Izzy breathed, astonished.

 

“The only other thing I can tell you is that it happens when Clary’s in trouble. But it’s not like I can just do it like—” Jace snapped his fingers to make his point. “So, if you’re expecting me to be able to heal Alec or start a fire or run through that door or—God, I don’t know, Izzy, I don’t know _what the hell to do_!”

 

“Jace,” whispered a voice meeker than a mouse, “ _calm down_.”

 

“ _Alec_?”

 

Izzy and Jace bumped their heads together when they both tried to look at Alec’s face from the same angle. Jace adjusted Alec’s body so that he sat up straighter. Their brother’s eyes remained shut. Breathing: shallow. Heartbeat: slow. Limbs: limp. Body temp: rising fast—too fast. Color: white as bone. Alec licked his lips and spoke again. “Jace… Izzy… Max—is Max all right?”

 

Izzy strangled the fabric over her chest with both hands. “Max, come here!” she ordered. “Alec’s awake. Come on!”

 

Max took his time—practically tiptoed. His injured brother didn’t look any different and certainly not any better. When he was within arm’s reach his sister snatched his wrist and traded places with him.

 

Alec’s hand felt heavy in Max’s. It was twice as long as his and twice as wide. Max scratched his fingernail against one of Alec’s and clenched and unclenched his jaw. A long minute passed. A second followed it. And then Alec whispered his name. Max looked up, not expecting to see familiar dark eyes looking back but thrilled when they were. “Look at you, buddy,” Alec whispered. “Nice shiner. You’re being so brave, Max. So brave.”

 

Jace sniffed, bowed his head, and nestled his nose against Alec’s bare shoulder.

 

“I, uh…” Max cleared his throat and forced a smile. “There’s water. We have water. Do you want water?” Alec nodded. Max reached for the fourth bottle and would’ve dumped the whole thing down Alec’s throat if Izzy hadn’t stopped him.

 

“Careful,” she whispered. “Do it slowly, Max. Just a little at a time. Like this.” Isabelle dripped a few drops into the bottle’s plastic cap, held the cap against Alec’s lower lip and waited, patiently, until he was ready and able to drink. Max watched her example twice before doing it on his own.

 

“Thanks…” Alec let go of Max’s hand, patted it, then draped his palm behind his _parabatai’s_ neck. “I’m ok, Jace.”

 

Jace’s face contorted into a mask of grief. He nodded—his chin brushing against Alec’s feverish skin—and took a deep, steadying breath. Without looking up he reached for and found Alec’s hand and braided their fingers together. And finally, for the first time, he looked down at his _parabatai’s_ injuries. The warlocks had played connect the dots with Alec’s visible skin. They used a knife to draw lines connecting each rune to the other, creating figures that resembled star constellations. Jace’s stomach rebelled. His stomach almost emptied right there and then.

 

Izzy knelt. “Think you can talk?” she asked Alec. “Think you can tell us what happened?”

 

“Yeah.” Alec swallowed. His Adam’s Apple raced up and down his throat. “How does my new tattoo look?”

 

Jace snorted. “It’s not really you. A four-leaf clover, a dolphin maybe. A tat of a cute little red heart is more your style.”

 

Alec’s ribs bounced. That was the closest he could come to a laugh. He told his brothers and sister everything the triplets said. How they wanted to trade Jace for Valentine’s protection. How they planned to take out Magnus. How the tattoo transformed him into a battery on two legs. How they planned to do the same to them…

 

“That’s why they’re feeding us.” Izzy gestured at the bag of sandwiches. “They _want_ us to recover.”

 

“And if they want to take over this city they’re going to need a lot more Shadowhunter batteries,” said Alec.

 

“A whole Institute’s worth,” Jace lamented. He shook his head. Thick eyebrows sunk with worry. “They’ll go after Clary and the others next.”

 

Max looked at Izzy, then at Alec, then at Jace, and back again. “So, what do we do?”

 

**To Be Continued**


	5. Hitler's Warlocks, Part 3

**Parabatai Pain  
** PenPatronus  
Story #3  
Part 3  
 **Hitler’s Warlocks**

 

**EARLIER**

 

Clary and Simon jumped up, Jack-in-the-Box style off Magnus’ couch when the door to the loft opened. Raphael and Luke entered with their hands raised like they expected to get shot at. “No scent,” the vampire reported. “Didn’t find Isabelle.”

 

“We’ve been all over the city,” said Luke. “No sign of any of them.”

 

“Three more Shadowhunters have disappeared in the last 12 hours!” Clary’s face burned red. She gripped her stele like it was a weapon. “We have to find Jace and the others, and stop whoever’s doing this before anyone else gets hurt!”

 

Simon wrung his hands one finger at a time. “What can we do?” he asked, innocently (but sincerely). “No witnesses saw them get taken. That sonar we hijacked didn’t pick up anything on the ocean we couldn’t see. We can’t track them so—so, what does that leave? Faces on milk cartons? ‘Have You Seen Me’ posters on streetlights? Maybe—”

 

A half-empty glass of scotch suddenly soared over the group and shattered against the door. Magnus, his hair flat and his vest askew, strolled in from the balcony with his cat eyes blazing. “Is this funny to you?” he asked Simon with a deep, breathy, fragile voice. “The man I love could be _dead_ and you’re cracking jokes?”

 

Simon started to apologize but promptly shut his mouth when Raphael glared a warning at him. He stepped back and cowered behind Clary.

 

“We’re doing everything we can, Magnus,” Luke reassured him.

 

The warlock snorted. He turned his back on the group and poured himself another drink. “If we don’t find them soon I’m going to rattle every building in the state like a salt shaker until Alec falls out.”

 

“He can do that?” Simon whispered to Clary.

 

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” She shrugged. “He caught Alec when he stepped off the roof. And I’ve seen Dot do some basic telekinesis.”

 

“Do you know why the Leaning Tower of Pisa leans?” Raphael whispered. Luke, Clary, and Simon shook their heads. “Magnus wanted to impress Camille so he juggled a few, um, towers. The Eiffel Tower and the Tower of London landed just fine but the Tower of Pisa? Leaning to this day.” Raphael lowered his voice even further. “Magnus was a little tipsy. It looked straight at the time…”

 

Magnus returned with a martini and gestured for everyone to sit. “If anyone has any bright ideas about how to get the A Team back, I’m all ears.”

 

Simon’s nose crinkled. “We’re the B Team?” he muttered only loud enough for Clary to hear.

 

“Clary said she had a plan.” Luke leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. Sweat from a long day of running stained his t-shirt. “She also said I wouldn’t like it.”

 

Clary flipped her hair back over her shoulder and held her head high. “It’s pretty simple. Someone out there is kidnapping Shadowhunters. That means I’m the perfect bait.”

 

“No,” said Luke.

 

“Absolutely not,” said Simon.

 

“Clever,” said Raphael.

 

Magnus smiled for the first time in days. “Bravo, biscuit. But I have a better idea.” The warlock picked up Raphael’s wrist, rolled up his sleeve, and placed his hand over the vampire’s forearm. (Simon’s jaw dropped when Raphael didn’t even flash his fangs let alone take his arm back.) Pumpkin-orange magic glowed and a perfect replica of the Angelic Power rune appeared on the vampire’s white silk skin.

 

Raphael cocked both eyebrows at Magnus. “Seriously? You want to dangle me like a fish on a line, too?”

 

Magnus clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together like he was trying to start a fire out of thin air. “Of course not, my boy. Simon is also going to be bait.”

 

“Huh?” Simon squeaked, eyes wide.

 

Raphael lifted his forearm to his nose and sniffed. “Is this thing masking my scent? Oh, God, I smell _angelic_ …”

 

“We need as many volunteers from the Downworld as possible,” said Magnus. “We’ll rune them up, give them steles, and send them out into the streets disguised as Shadowhunters. If we’re lucky, someone will get caught and taken to where Alec, Jace, Isabelle, and Max are being held.” Magnus flourished his fingers. “ _Voila_!”

 

Clary saw the obvious question in Luke and Raphael’s eyes. She also saw that neither one of them wanted to ask it. So, she sat up straight and said, gently, “Um, Magnus, wouldn’t that person just be stuck there like them? One more person we can’t track?”

 

“Never fear, my dear.” Magnus, unfazed, pointed at Luke. “We’ll be able to track everyone with a little help from the NYPD.”

 

\---------

 

**TWO DAYS LATER**

 

Gabe the warlock finished the final touches on Jace’s tattoo and took a step back to admire his work. “This could’ve gone a lot faster if you’d held still,” he admonished.

 

Jace growled through his clenched teeth. He started to spit at the warlock pinning him to the cockpit floor, but Eugene slapped his cheek. “This could’ve been a lot worse for you,” Eugene told him. “We were going to turn your asses over to Valentine but, instead of a gruesome death, you get to go home, kid.”

 

“And be your mobile slave for the rest of my life?” grunted Jace. “I’ll die before I let you use my strength to hurt innocent people.”

 

Gabe shrugged. “Then die! We don’t care. Plenty more where you came from. We’ve already smuggled 7 more Shadowhunters onto this sub. And there’s nothing to stop us from turning every Nephilim in the city into batteries.”

 

Jace opened his mouth to ask if one of their prisoners was a cute redhead. But, he stopped himself, realizing that they would target Clary if they didn’t have her already. Chimes radiated from Eugene’s pocket. He answered his cell in German, but Jace recognized Roger’s name. They chatted for only a minute and when they were done, Eugene was all smiles. “Got another one,” he said to Gabe.

 

Jace returned to the brig to find Alec standing for the first time. He still looked ghost-white but he was dry, hydrated, and on his feet. “Are you ok?” Alec asked. Before Jace could reply, his older brother hugged him hard, then stepped back and pressed their foreheads together. “I heard you screaming. It was like—like…” Alec swallowed and shook his head. “It was just the worst…”

 

“Now you know how I felt when I heard you,” Jace whispered. He lifted his face and cupped Alec’s cheeks between his hands. “Your fever is getting worse.”

 

Alec ignored the observation. He gestured for Izzy and Max to come hug Jace, too, and when they did he wrapped his long arms around all three of them. The hug only broke up because Max started sniffling. “I’m next.” He stared at the Black Sun staining his sister’s neck. “It hurts, doesn’t it? That’s demon magic.”

 

“Dark magic,” Alec corrected. “Just because someone is half-demon doesn’t mean they’re using demonic spells.”

 

Max scowled. “I’ll try to remember that when those warlocks are stabbing me!”

 

“Max, it’ll be ok,” Jace soothed. “We’ll get out of here—you know we will. And Magnus will fix you right up. You just have to hang on a little longer.”

 

Just then, the four Lightwoods heard the familiar sound of the door unlocking. Max’s chin trembled. “Alec, don’t let them take me,” he begged, backing up into his big brother’s arms. “Izzy, Jace, I’m scared—”

 

A grinning Roger opened the door. His mohawk bumped against the top. Instead of taking Max out, he tossed a new Shadowhunter inside. The slim, shorter man wearing jeans, sneakers, and a shirt advertising some Mundane music group landed on his nose at Jace’s feet and groaned long and low. He shook his head like he’d just woken up from an unplanned nap, then slowly raised his face to look up at his fellow prisoners.

 

“ _Simon_?” both Jace and Izzy gasped.

 

“No way!” Simon sputtered. “It worked! I found you!” He wrapped his arms around Jace’s ankles and hugged him. Jace made a face like he’d just stepped in dog poop and quickly squirmed out of the vampire’s grasp.

 

Izzy helped Simon stand up. “What are you doing here? Why—Why are there runes on your arms?”

 

“I’m a Shadowhunter!” Simon bounced on the balls of his feet—a child eager to make a parent proud. “And I’m here to rescue you!” he declared.

 

“Oh. Oh, _great_!” Alec’s voice dripped salty sarcasm. “Hear that, Jace? The vampire’s here to save us.”

 

Simon pointed at Alec’s nose and said, “You’re gonna love me by the end of the day, Eyebrows. The cavalry’s coming!”

 

“ _Eyebrows_?”

 

Max shook his head. “Unless you have a stele up your—”

 

“ _Max_ ,” Isabelle and Alec hissed simultaneously.

 

“What?” the 12-year-old sputtered.

 

“Oh, god, what’s that on your neck?” Simon rubbed his thumb across Isabelle’s tattoo like he expected the ink to smear. “Isn’t that—that’s some Nazi symbol, isn’t it? Is that permanent? Holy _shit_ —are we in a _submarine_?”

 

“Backstory later, Simon,” Izzy insisted. “Now tell me, is there actually a plan to rescue us or did you just get captured to keep us company? Runes or not, the others won’t be able to track you, same as us.”

 

“True. Correct. The A Team won’t be able to find us using Shadowhunter-y things. But! Lucky for you, I brought a little modern magic. And by magic, I mean technology!”

 

“We’re the B Team?” Jace muttered only loud enough for Alec to hear. Alec rolled his eyes.

 

Izzy stepped back and looked at Simon’s pockets. “They didn’t take your phone?”

 

“Of course they did. And my stele. Hope you don’t mind that I borrowed one of yours, Jace.”

 

“Son of a—” Jace tossed his arms up into the air and turned in a circle.

 

Simon got down on one knee and rolled up his pantleg. “Behold!” he exclaimed, gesturing at a plastic square the size of a matchbook strapped to his leg. A dull red light in the center of the square blinked every three seconds.

 

“What is it?” Max asked, suddenly excited. He dashed over to Simon and poked the device with both forefingers. “Is it… It’s… One of those Mundane buttons that unlocks automobiles…?”

 

“Close!” Simon instantly shook his head. “Actually, not close. Not close at all. But nice try, Max.”

 

“ _Simon_!” Alec growled between clenched teeth.

 

“Sorry. Right. Sorry.” Simon pointed at the device. “Ankle monitor, courtesy of the NYPD. It’s a homing device! The bad guys may be using wards and water and God knows what else to hide this boat, but unless they shoot this thing with a localized electromagnetic pulse, Luke can follow the radio frequency.”

 

“You… I…” Alec grunted. He mimed strangling Simon’s neck with both hands. “Language we can all understand, vampire!”

 

“Ok, ok.” Simon rolled his eyes. “Simplest version: Magnus is coming.”

 

Alec froze. Every muscle in his body relaxed a smidge. “Magnus is coming.”

 

“I swear.” Simon pretended to check an invisible watch on his wrist. “Any time now.”

 

\---------

 

Magnus, Luke, Raphael, and Clary portal-ed onto a wide northern shore. The chilly, crisp wind had cleared the beach of any Mundanes and, with the sun setting, local birds and critters were getting out of the way, too. The dunes didn’t end for a tenth of a mile behind them, and the only thing ahead was a rickety wooden pier. Luke pointed at the water beyond and announced, after doublechecking his tablet, “Simon’s half a klick away and… And _under_ water.”

 

Clary paled. “You don’t mean…?” Clary shoved her way between the boys and sprinted to the end of the pier. She shouted Simon’s name as if he could hear her, looked around the water as if she would see him. “Maybe… Maybe it’s not him. Maybe the tracking device fell off and the tide took it. That—that must be it because Simon can’t be out there, he can’t have _drowned_ —!”

 

The boys followed her. “Clary, shhh.” Magnus took her hand. “I can think of several logical explanations and none of them mean he’s dead. Now, step aside, biscuit. I’ll find our boys.”

 

Sniffling, Clary obeyed. Luke and Raphael kept their distance, too. Magnus stood on the edge of the pier, rolled up both sleeves, and spread his arms like an eagle’s wings. Magenta magic twirled around the tips of his fingers and then spread, tsunami-like, over and under the water for as far as they could see. A moment later he pivoted around and grinned at Clary. “They’re in a submarine.”

 

“What?”

 

“A Nazi submarine, judging by the shape and size.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

Raphael’s voice sounded twice as dry as usual. “Are you seriously saying that Nazis are kidnapping Shadowhunters?”

 

“It’s happened before,” Luke muttered. “Did you ever encounter the Black Sun, Magnus?”

 

Magnus shifted his weight back and forth. He slid a ring off his left forefinger, shined it on his pants, then replaced it. “I kept my head down during World War Two. It was a Mundane affair.” Magnus sighed. He pounded his heel down on a warped section of the wooden pier. “Always regretted that…”

 

“Downworlder law kept you from getting involved, didn’t it?” Raphael slid his hands into his pockets and cocked his head to the side. “We’re not supposed to interfere with Mundane conflicts that don’t affect us.”

 

Magnus snorted. He turned his back so that his friends couldn’t see the grief-stricken look on his face.

 

“What’s the Black Sun?” Clary prompted.

 

“Hitler’s warlocks,” said Luke. “The Nazis were into every occult thing imaginable. When they found out that warlocks were real, they recruited as many as they could—promised them anything they wanted in return for their help. A few were assigned to specific divisions but most stayed in Berlin as the Third Reich’s bodyguards. I heard stories about those brothers who never left Hitler’s side—what were their names, Magnus?”

 

“Arch,” said Magnus. “Three of them. The Arch triplets.”

 

Luke nodded in agreement. “They thwarted every assassination attempt, shielded Nazi headquarters and senior personnel from Allied attacks, even helped plan the invasion of Paris. Rode horses right under the Arc De Triomphe.”

 

“Shouldn’t we save the history lesson for later?” asked Raphael. “Magnus, can you scoop them out of the water or what?”

 

“Wish I could. I can sense that sub but their wards are blocking my magic from touching it. And if the kidnappers really are members of the Black Sun, then those wards are practically impenetrable.” Magnus stared at the water with his hands braced against his hips. The other three waited in silence, letting him think. Their patience was on the verge of dissipating when Magnus bowed his head. He turned around, nose still pointed at his shoes, and said, “I have an idea… But it might kill them.”

 

“The warlocks or the Shadowhunters?” Raphael asked.

 

“All of them.” Magnus held his hand out for Clary and squeezed when she took it. “The Black Sun warlocks use blood magic. There are a number of horrible things they could be doing with the Shadowhunters. I don’t—”

 

“Like what?” Clary whispered.

 

Magnus’ chains jingled when he shook his head. “They’re not worth mentioning, love. They’re worse than death. Telling you would solve nothing and only make you upset. But believe me when I say I _know_ Alec would rather die than—than go through any of that. I feel confident that I can speak on his behalf, but I need you to speak for Jace—and Izzy and Max.”

 

Clary dragged her fingernails down her face and turned on the spot. “You mean you want me to give you permission to kill them? Magnus, I can’t—”

 

“ _Yes, you can_.” Magnus pursed his lips together so hard that they turned white. “If you were in their shoes, would this be worth the risk?”

 

“Jace would rather die than endure something worse than death,” Clary thought out loud. Magnus just blinked. “Yes. It’s worth the risk.”

 

“Ok.” Luke clapped his hands once and asked, “What do you need?”

 

“What does anyone need to take out a submarine?” Magnus grinned. “Depth charges.”

 

**To Be Continued**


	6. Hitler's Warlocks, Part 4

**Parabatai Pain  
** PenPatronus  
Story #3  
Part 4  
 **Hitler’s Warlocks**

 

The five prisoners sat around an empty water bottle like it was a campfire. Simon told the Lightwoods what happened since their disappearance, they updated him, and Max performed a dramatic reenactment of how he beat up Roger before taking an elbow to the eye. An hour passed. No rescue… No Magnus. Antsy, tired, and impatient, Alec eventually left the circle and hunkered down in a corner. Max bundled up his maroon sweater and slid it between the wall and Alec’s neck.

 

Another hour passed at a snail’s pace. Jace taunted Simon by repeating his earlier words: “Magnus is coming any time now, _huh_?”

 

“Yep!” Simon flinched at the sound of his own voice. It had revered to puberty. Jace rolled his eyes. Izzy giggled.

 

Sixty later, Max called for help. The young Lightwood had his ear against Alec’s white lips. “Jace, he’s breathing weird.”

 

Everyone froze. Everyone listened. It sounded like Alec was gargling marbles.

 

“ _Dammit_.” Jace darted to his _parabatai’s_ side. Alec’s eyes were closed but, when Jace touched his cheek, he peeked out from under one gray eyelid. Jace forced a smile and said, “You’re freaking Max out, buddy. Take a deep breath for me.”

 

“Tired,” Alec sighed.

 

Jace’s chin trembled. “I know,” he whispered. “Try anyway. _Alec_?” Jace slapped his cheek with two fingers. “Alec, _try_.”

 

Simon frowned. “Why is Alec worse off than the rest of you?” he asked Izzy.

 

She bit her lower lip. “The warlocks tattooed all three of us but they also drained most of Alec’s strength. He’s weak—and who knows what germs he could’ve picked up. In his condition, he couldn’t fight off a cold.”

 

A wheeze. A cough. Panic in Alec’s suddenly wide eyes… Jace sat against the wall and patted his thigh. “Come here,” he ordered gently.

 

Alec didn’t argue. He put Max’s sweater on Jace’s lap and lied down on his side with his cheek cushioned against it. Sleep came. Occasionally his body twitched, his hands clenched into fists, or his lips moved like he was having a conversation. His temperature increased by another degree or two, and sweat budded from every pore. At first the new position muted the rattle in his throat. For over an hour there were deep, smooth breaths—in and out, consistent. Ripples eventually interrupted. Ripples… and then gasps. Isabelle rose to her hands and knees. “ _Jace_?”

 

Jace reached around Alec and placed a hand on his chest. Looking pleadingly at Isabelle he said, “My iratze rune. Tell me if it glows.”

 

Isabelle sniffed and shook her head. “Do you think it will work?”

 

Jace avoided her gaze. “I have to try.”

 

“What’s going on?” Max asked at the same time that Simon reminded the group “He doesn’t have a stele!”

 

“Shhh,” Izzy hissed. “Let him concentrate.”

 

“On what?”

 

Together Izzy and Jace snarled, “ _Shut up, Simon_!” The vampire pretended to pull a zipper across his lips.

 

Four pairs of eyes stared at Jace’s hand over Alec’s heart.

 

Nothing happened.

 

And then…

 

Nothing happened.

 

And then—

 

The brig door opened with a bang. Gabe, Eugene, and Roger all stood in the threshold with their handguns cocked and aimed at the startled Lightwoods. “It’s the kid’s turn to get a tattoo,” Roger announced, gesturing at Max with his gun. “None of you put up a fight, now. If we shoot you, then heal you, we’ll have to drain someone to get that strength back and—believe you me—the Arch boys always bite off more than they can chew.”

 

Maybe it was the fresh scents, or maybe the word “bite” that caused Simon’s fangs to appear without his consent. He slapped his hand over his mouth so hard that the sound echoed, but he wasn’t quite fast enough to escape notice. “Son of a bitch…” Gabe cocked his head to the side and his braid fell over his shoulder. “That punk isn’t a Shadowhunter!”

 

Simon regained control and cast a dazzling smile. “Sure, I am!” he said with far too much enthusiasm. “See? Runes! Lots of runes! Runes everywhere!”

 

“Oh, really?” Eugene marched over to Isabelle and yanked her to her feet by her hair. Gabe went fishing through his pockets, found a needle, and used it to slice an inch-long cut through Izzy’s right forearm. Eugene shoved her against Simon and held her wounded arm to his nose.

 

Jace got to his feet. “Simon!”

 

Simon clenched his eyes shut and rotated his head away. His mouth remained shut until Gabe clasped his throat and squeezed. Fangs descended. Simon’s nose twitched. His wild eyes landed on the blood running down Isabelle’s skin. Drool accumulated in both corners of his mouth.

 

“Simon, _don’t_!” Jace shouted.

 

“Look at that. A vamp in angel clothes. We have no use for a vampire, do we, boys?” asked Roger. “And we can’t have a wolf eating our sheep, so…” The three identical brothers shared a look and shrugged, identically. “ _Kill him_.”

 

“ _No_!” Izzy cried. Max buried his head against Alec’s shoulder. Jace charged forward.

 

A gun fired, but nobody heard it. A massive **_BOOM_** from the starboard side of the submarine dominated everyone’s attention. Half a moment later the sub rocked a few degrees to the side, but not quite far enough to knock anyone off their feet.

 

The second explosion did that and more.

 

Shifting gravity catapulted the four Shadowhunters, three warlocks, and one vampire against a wall turned floor. The lightbulb shattered against the ceiling, dousing the brig in both glass and darkness. Red lights filled the hallway and klaxons shrieked. Shadowhunters in the second brig screamed. Sudden silence replaced the sudden noise—silence except for Alec’s wheezing. Jace, who ended up at the top of the pile, looked down past an unknown pair of legs and saw Alec, silhouette red and pinned between Simon and Roger, gasping harder for air. Blood doused half of Izzy’s hair red, and Max’s other eye was halfway closed. When the warlocks couldn’t crawl out from under the pile, they identified the closest Shadowhunter and raised their palms to—

 

Bomb number three didn’t detonate until it was almost under the submarine’s nose. The ship bucked. Bodies rolled. Forks, bottles, soap, jewelry, arrows, stools, cups, seraph blades, needles, shoes, books, screwdrivers, bullets, steles, rolls of toilet paper and anything else not bolted in the submarine flew about like exploding popcorn kernels. Just when the sub started to settle—rocking like a canoe instead of shaking like a seizure—the hull groaned. A rumble crescendoed into a deafening ****_SNAP_ and miniscule cracks darted outwards from the porthole. Water pounded in, hard and fast as a firehose. Everyone’s ears popped and heads ached from the sudden pressure change.

 

The brig door, which could only open from the outside, slammed shut, almost decapitating Max when it swung.

 

Dead blackness.

 

Beside the door, a warlock fought his way up to his knees. Arms outstretched, palms aimed like weapons, Roger sent a gust of magic through the iron, melting a path out. Red light waved everyone towards the hall—towards the cockpit. Roger, his mohawk bent at a 90-degree angle, started crawling up the slight slope. He passed the head, the other brig, the kitchen, the vial of Adolf Hitler’s blood hanging safely over the sink in its personal hammock, and the co-pilot’s chair. His blood-soaked hand slipped when he tried to pull a lever and before he could reach again, hands grabbed his ankles and pulled.

 

Roger kicked and popped Jace right in the nose. “Idiot Shadowhunter!” he bellowed. “If I don’t empty the ballast tanks, we’ll sink!”

 

“Yeah?” Jace struggled to speak around a swollen lip. “Looks to me like we’re already floating!” Sparkling neon green light hovered outside the front window. Half-asleep fish dodged aside as the submarine rose, quickly, towards the surface. “Cracking the hull broke the wards!” Jace grinned so wide that his skin hurt. “Alec warned you not to mess with the High Warlock of Brooklyn!”

 

Roger roared curses in half a dozen languages. Furious, he sat up and shot magic at Jace, but the Shadowhunter expected it and rolled out of the way just in time. The blue light traveled back down the hall and hit Eugene in the chest a second before he fired his gun at an unconscious Isabelle. Simon caught the weapon and shot Gabe twice in the chest. Braid swinging, the warlock stumbled and landed hard on his knees. Groaning, growling, gasping, he held his hands against the bullet holes and injected healing magic.

 

“ _Simon_ —!” Max shouted his name, but not soon enough. Eugene’s magic sent the vampire ricocheting off the walls like he was in a pinball game. The gun sunk into the freezing water, now a foot deep. Max got a running start and launched his entire body into the air. He’d snatched up one of the seraph blades and unleashed it now, swinging it like a baseball bat with all his strength. Eugene swung back with a column of black, inky magic, but Max twisted his body beneath it in midair and sliced the warlock across the abdomen. Eugene howled—and howled again when Max struck upward into his back. The warlock landed face-first in the water, darkened by his blood. Sparks flickered and died on his fingertips.

 

Against the wall on the other side of the brig, a dazed Alec limped back into consciousness just in time to see Eugene fall and his little brother pull Izzy and Simon up and out of the rising water. Alec heard a crack above his head, and the water started pouring in twice as fast. Gabe, who was splashing his way over to his brother, had to dogpaddle the last five feet. He stopped healing himself and hurled his remaining magic into Gabe. The panting but determined Alec flapped his hands through the water. Various objects bounced off his fingertips: sponges, a magazine, a gold medal shaped like a swastika, a toothbrush, broken glass, and iron bolts. Gabe grabbed Eugene by the collar and yanked him up into a sitting position. Magic must have started the warlock’s heart again because he was losing more blood. Behind them, Max stopped fighting the water and let Simon and Izzy’s bodies float onto their backs. He used his shoulders like shelves to cushion their heads. The water rose to his chin.

 

Finally—Alec’s hands touched something familiar. He hadn’t practiced with Izzy’s weapon since they were kids, but he trusted his muscle memory. The bracelet came to life at his touch and unraveled into a whip. Alec took in as much oxygen as he could to aim the whip. Then he braced his feet, rotated his upper body, dropped a lasso over Gabe and Eugene’s bodies and pulled them together, back to back. Gabe tried to point his hands at Eugene’s wounds once more and, when he couldn’t, he yelled for Roger’s help. Alec shimmied over and punched the warlock so hard in the mouth that his skull collided with Eugene’s, knocking them both out.

 

The water reached Alec’s chest. Max kicked his legs furiously to keep Izzy afloat. “Al—lec—” he gasped, spitting like a water fountain. Alec began to swim over but, right then, Jace’s body soared into the room like a cannonball and knocked down Alec and the pair of warlocks. Roger followed him from the hallway. Eyes ablaze, fingers clawing in the air like he was trying to fight his way out of a giant spider web, Roger fired a bolt of lightning into the water, stabbing both the Shadowhunters and the warlocks with electricity. Alec, Jace, and Max howled in pain. Their limbs seized up and their hearts raced, stuttered. Simon and Izzy floated out of Max’s useless arms and started to sink. Both _parabatai_ disappeared under the water.

 

Jace opened his eyes. Between the blood and the flashing lights, the water looked bright red. Alec’s eyes were also open, but so was his mouth. Jace reached for him but missed because the submarine finally broke the surface, and the water rushed out as fast as it flowed in.

 

The sloped hallway became a waterslide. Roger’s knees gave out under the pressure and he somersaulted into the brig with the rest of them. The hull squawked some more and everyone looked up to see sharp green magic pulling the ceiling off like the lid on a can of tuna. Roger frantically crawled over to his brothers. Jace crawled to Alec.

 

Alec no longer struggled to breathe; he wasn’t breathing at all. While Roger drained Isabelle to heal the warlocks, Jace gripped Alec’s unmoving arm and tried one last time to ignite his healing rune. One beat of Jace’s heart later, his eyes glowed a golden light that promptly pierced the red darkness. Both iratze runes switched on, pulsed, and Alec’s body convulsed. Lungs re-inflated. Tree bark-brown eyes opened. Rapidly conscious, and miraculously alert, Alec stared up at his _parabatai_ and grunted, confused, “Magnus…?”

 

“Magnus is coming,” Jace whispered. “Just a few seconds. A minute at most. Hang on, Alec, hang on.”

 

Alec tried to speak, tried to nod. Saltwater stung everyone’s eyes and chilled their bones. Joints vibrated as if they were still being electrocuted. Jace couldn’t get up. Alec couldn’t speak. But, Alec reached a trembling hand for Jace at the same time that Jace reached for him. The bond between their runes ached when their hands touched.

 

A screech of a sound like fingernails across a chalkboard caught everyone’s attention. The ceiling split and fell overboard. Magic flowed into the brig and started ripping down the walls.

 

One tear—one tear only—slid down Jace’s cheek and he whispered at Alec but to everyone, “ _Hang on_ …”

 

 

Roger grabbed Jace’s hair with his right hand and Alec’s with his left. Izzy’s whip lay shriveled on the deck and Eugene and Gabe’s eyes were open, and seeing. Roger shoved the _parabatai_ on the deck next to his brothers. After inhaling like he was about to dive into deep water, the warlock held his palms over on the boys, opened up the magical valves that corked their energy, and swallowed their strength like water—like a desperate, dehydrated man lost in the desert. Screams echoed off the remaining walls. Then, Roger put his hands directly onto Eugene and Gabe’s heads and, using all the strength he could access to drive him, finished the healing.

 

Resurrected. Reinvigorated. Rejuvenated. The three brothers hopped up on their feet, all confident smiles. They dragged Alec and Jace forward, put them on their knees, then crouched behind them as if behind a wall. Next door in the second brig, the other Shadowhunters fell to their knees one by one when the warlocks focused on their tattoos and robbed them of their strength.

 

The three grew so strong so quickly that even their muscles swelled.

 

Their magic grew so strong that they no longer had the capabilities of three warlocks, but a dozen.

 

The final bolts holding the walls together popped out and, like a rising curtain, revealed the scene.

 

**To Be Continued**


	7. Hitler's Warlocks, Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus is grumpy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final part of story #3! Thanks for the feedback—don’t forget to leave a review for this one (fanfiction writers make $0.00 per hour, ha)!  

**Parabatai Pain  
** PenPatronus  
Story #3  
Part 5  
 **Hitler’s Warlocks**

 

The submarine floated beside and beneath a ship half the size of Valentine’s tanker. Magnus, cat eyes aimed down like a sniper’s laser scope, stood on the port side with Raphael, Clary, and Luke lined up behind him. The full moon shone down on the scene like a spotlight.

 

Roger, Eugene, and Gabe peeked over the shield created by the kneeling Alec and Jace. They sensed warlock magic and their suspicious eyes landed on Magnus, who stared longingly at his boyfriend. The tattoo on Alec’s neck. The bruises on his torso. The dagger lines from one rune to the next—the worst game of connect-the-dot. Jace’s grip on his arm was the only reason why Alec didn’t collapse onto his bleeding nose.

 

Water and air suddenly stilled like Poseidon flipped a switch. Time stuttered. Heartbeats doubled in speed. Everything smelled like sweat and iron and blood— _primal_. Anyone who felt irritated suddenly felt angry. Anyone angry suddenly felt enraged. Anyone enraged suddenly felt that nameless step beyond furious where you stop seeing red and remember nothing. _Everyone_ felt the atmosphere shiver with electricity—electricity that affected each soul differently. Roger scratched at his arm he was digging up something stinging beneath it. Gabe batted his braid aside like it was a hangman’s noose. Eugene struggled to breathe. Luke’s eyes glowed and Raphael’s teeth extended. Clary covered her ears like thunder clapped inside her skull. Isabelle and Simon—still unconscious—flexed their fingers and twitched. Max cowered under his sister’s arm. Jace grew goosebumps and his teeth started chattering. Fish scurried away and birds pivoted in midair and flew in the opposite direction.

 

Alec felt cradled by warm, invisible arms, but they were strangling everyone else. “ _Magnus_!” he shouted. “ _Take. Back. CONTROL_!”

 

His words, his _voice_ broke the invisible, out of control spell and everyone felt normal again. Brief panic, quick recovery, but then the three warlocks chose their ‘fight’ instinct instead of ‘flight.’ As a unit, they raised their palms and shot columns of undulating blue light. Jace shoved Alec to the deck and put his arm and upper body over his _parabatai’s_ back to protect him from stray sparks. Not only did Magnus not flinch, but he didn’t even raise his hands to block the attack. Magic leaked from his lungs and poured from his pores. Invisible shields both blocked and absorbed the magic. Magnus Bane—one warlock—swallowed an attack from 12!

 

It weakened him. He held his hand out and Clary took it. “Luke, Raphael,” he gasped, “swim over there. I’ll need your help.” The werewolf and the vampire dove into the sea without argument.

 

The Arch brothers alternated between staring at Magnus with awe and at each other in fear. After a minute, Roger opened his arms as if for a hug, and called out, “ _Sieg heil_ Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn—of New York! Your reputation precedes you—and one hell of a reputation it is!”

 

Magnus’ fists shook like maracas. He addressed the warlocks, but didn’t take his eyes off Alec’s still form. His voice shook when he asked questions he already knew the answers to: “Are you Roger, Gabe, and Eugene Arch, the High Warlocks of Berlin?”

 

Pleased, flattered, cocky, Roger bowed slightly and said, “You’ve heard of the Black Sun!”

 

“We’re impressed and humbled!” Eugene said in a shaky voice.

 

“So humbled!” said Gabe. He unwrapped and wrapped his thumb around his hair—over and over again like a ritual.

 

Roger pointed at the Lightwoods. “We acquired these Shadowhunters in the name of Hitler! With their strength, warlocks can rule the country—rule this world! The Downworld and the Mundanes will need strong leaders, Bane. Leaders like you, like us!”

 

Magnus didn’t blink. Nothing in his posture or his face revealed that he was even listening. “You admit that you are Nazis. You are the Arch Triplets. You served the Third Reich as Hitler’s warlocks and bodyguards?”

 

Roger smiled, frowned, then smiled again. “Proudly!” he declared. He turned his head and looked across the scene once, twice, three times, trying to get a handle on the mood. He changed tactics for the first time (but not for the last). “If you prefer not to join us then we’ll leave in peace with the Shadowhunters we’ve claimed.”

 

Color flooded Magnus’ cheeks. Jace leaned forward to look at Alec’s face. They wore identical expressions: slight smiles with a side of reluctant empathy. “ _Claimed_?” Alec chuckled, nearly mute. “Magnus is so angry. Can’t you feel it in the air? _So_ angry...”

 

“Think he’ll be able to take these guys out?” Jace wondered.

 

“Nothing pisses off my warlock more than injustice.”

 

“And seeing you hurt.”

 

“No kidding.” Alec flattened his body on the deck and nodded for Jace to do the same. “These warlocks are already dead.”

 

Roger kicked Jace’s knee. “What did he say?”

 

Jace looked up at his captor and smiled. “He said you’re screwed. Seriously, play dead while you still can. Magnus tore a submarine apart. What do you think he’s going to do to you?” The Shadowhunter traced his throat with his thumbnail, miming a knife slicing through Roger’s neck.

 

Magnus, once again, sounded like a restless judge in court. “Did you Roger, Gabe, and Eugene Arch willingly commit war crimes against innocent Mundanes?”

 

“Uh—” Roger replied.

 

“Did you evade the Nuremburg trials of 1945 and 1946?”

 

“Well—” Gabe began.

 

“Did you also elude Clave investigators intent on arresting and punishing you for your crimes?”

 

Eugene’s nose wrinkled. “Why the hell are you bringing this shit up, Bane?”

 

“Take it easy,” Roger hissed. “This guy’s more powerful than I anticipated.”

 

Eugene ignored his brother. “Maybe we did massacre Mundanes! Maybe we did take a few Shadowhunters off these streets but, who cares? We haven’t hurt anyone _important_!”

 

Alec and Jace groaned. “Should we roll into the ocean?” Jace wondered. “We’re kind of in the line of fire.”

 

“Just stay near me,” Alec sighed. He smirked and said, “He’s already erected shields around us.”

 

The soaking wet Luke and Raphael climbed up the far side of the submarine, nodded a greeting at Max, and snuck up behind the warlocks—teeth and claws bared.

 

Magnus squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, and stepped to the edge of the boat. “By the authority of the Brooklyn Downworld, of the Clave, of the Allies, and of the United States of America… I, Magnus Bane, hereby charge you with war crimes against humanity. Your sentence will be carried out— _now_.”

 

“Sentence?” Roger took two steps backwards. “Sounds like a threat, Bane. It’s only fair to warn you that we’ve drained the strength of every Shadowhunter on this vessel. If you attack us again, we won’t hesitate to use our magic to kill you all!”

 

“Understood.” Magnus’ eyes glowed brighter as his voice softened. “Jace?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Protect him.”  

 

Triple gasps behind them. “You know these Nephilim bastards?” Roger demanded.

 

“You’re a traitor to your kind!” Gabe accused.

 

Eugene shook his fist and shouted, “We’d never align ourselves with the likes of you, Bane! You’re dead. You hear me? _Dead_! We have enough power to kill, heal, and then kill you again over and over until the end of time!”

 

Magnus _yawned_. “Alexander?”

 

Alec’s bleary eyes blinked and he croaked, “Magnus?”

 

“Stay down, my love.”

 

“What the hell do you mean your ‘love’?” Roger demanded.

 

Alec and Jace smiled.

 

Bye, bye bravado.

 

Roger paled. His body drooped—even his mohawk. “Oh, SHIT.”

 

“We—We’re sorry!” said Gabe.

 

“Take him—have both of—take all the Shadowhunters!” Eugene insisted.

 

“Forgive us! We didn’t know! We’re sorry, we’re sorry, we’re sorry, _Bane_!” Roger roared.

 

Magnus cracked his knuckles and aimed his fingers. The part of his heart Alec inhabited brewed and boiled over with the deadliest magic known on earth. Spells like neon rainbows swirled and climbed out of Magnus’ soul. “Time to shut you Nazi assholes up.”

 

“ _You son of a_ —” Eugene didn’t stand a chance when he chose to go on the offensive instead of raising a shield. In that moment, Luke clamped his teeth and all ten claws around his spine. Magnus’ magic bore through each cell in his body and separated it from the others. Eugene turned to dust, the dust _of_ dust, in a heartbeat. Gabe defended himself. He raised a ward and lasted a whole five seconds longer than his brother. Raphael’s fangs in his forearm distracted him and less than a second later he evaporated like a cloud. Roger blocked and attacked the werewolf, the vampire, and the warlock at the same time. Mohawk askew, pointed teeth gleaming, eyes glowing red, he raised a ward with one hand and fired spells with the other. His bullets of magic collided with Magnus’ tsunami and both warlocks physically tripped. Clary darted forward to help Magnus get back up on his feet.

 

Jace and Alec stared up at the fireworks like it was July 4th and they were on a picnic blanket in Central Park. Neither moved. They could no longer see straight. The terrified, desperate, Roger was siphoning the final few calories from the tattooed Shadowhunters. The _parabatai_ passed out and missed the finale.

 

Max Lightwood ducked when Roger’s magic sent Luke and Raphael flying across the brig. The landing knocked them out and they joined Simon and Isabelle on the floor. Max saw Jace and Alec faint. He saw Magnus ask Clary for her strength, and saw her give it to him without hesitation. And then he saw Magnus’ swirling strikes of magic fade in color and speed. Roger seemed to grow taller. Clary collapsed to her knees. Magnus followed.

 

Electricity in the air again—on purpose from Roger this time instead of accidentally from Magnus. Sea waves lashed out. Wind rumbled. Iron plates rattled. The warlock laughed when all Magnus could manage was a weak shield to hide behind. Roger coiled his hands in the air and, with each rotation, another layer of fire made the comets he was constructing larger, hotter.

 

Comets the size of fists… Then plates… Then watermelons… Roger wound up like a baseball pitcher. The moon’s light turned _blood red_.

 

The silver seraph blade Max used on Eugene sat useless on the deck. _Angel_ , Max _hated_ warlocks. More than that—more than anything—he hated the blood on his brothers. That hatred reminded Max of his love, and that love told him to get to his feet. The 12-year-old picked up the blade, twirled it once, and then launched it at Roger’s back with everything he had.

 

Magnus sensed the precise second the sword impaled Roger—sensed it in the sudden hesitation in the warlock’s magic. In that moment, he rose and channeled everything he had left into his biggest, strongest, deadliest attack. His magic searched for and found a physical chink in Roger’s imperceptible armor. And, like he had with the submarine, Magnus peeled Roger Arch apart layer by layer and cast him into the water.

 

Weight in the sudden silence—a heavy, consuming absence of sound. Ears that could still hear only heard lapping water. The red-faced moon softened back to ivory.

 

Magnus grabbed Clary and portal-ed them both onto the sub. She ran to Jace. He ran to Alec. “No, step back,” Alec ordered. Clary hesitated. She didn’t wipe at her wet cheeks or comb back the hair in front of her eyes. “ _Clary_!”

 

Hiccupping, Clary reversed blindly. Simon woke up, got up. He let Clary back up to his chest and then put his hands on her shoulders. The others stirred one by one: Isabelle, Luke, Raphael. Max took Izzy’s hand.

 

Magnus knelt between the _parabatai_. Sweat and sea breeze dampened his disheveled clothes and humidity flattened his hair. Alec and Jace’s warm blood stained Magnus’ trousers, then chilled him past the bone. The others watched, mute, as the warlock placed his hands on the Shadowhunters’ chests, whispered foreign words, and then trickled healing magic over them—magic that looked like lava mixing with water.

 

Jace woke up gasping. He sat up on his elbows, mismatched eyes darting in every direction, confused. The Black Sun tattoo on his neck shriveled and shrunk. Color returned to his body as the stray blood disappeared. Magnus teetered. He barely had the strength to remain conscious, let alone heal Alec. Magnus clenched his teeth tight and his eyes shut and sent not only his healing magic but his own strength. Jace reached for him when he started to fall forward, but didn’t have to catch him. Alec sat up right when Magnus collapsed down. Strong arms caught and clung to the warlock, and Magnus opened his eyes.

 

Alec’s cold, plump lips parted Magnus’ warm, narrow lips and they exhaled sighs of relief right into their lover’s mouths. Magnus explored Alec’s damp hair with his fingernails and when they parted, out of breath but so thrilled to be, he started to cry not with tears, but with convulsing shoulders and a closed throat. “ _Proud_ —” Alec struggled to whisper, “…proud of _you_.” He wiped his hand across Magnus’ forehead, down his cheek, behind his neck. “The millions those bastards hurt… You avenged them. That was justice.”

 

Magnus’ chin trembled. He folded forward and burrowed his nose into Alec’s chest. A shaky breath, a sniff, and then he sat up straight again and admitted, “I spoke on their behalf but, Alexander, I only thought of you. _Only_ of you.”

 

Maybe the moment deserved to last longer, but Max Lightwood was impatient. He ran towards Jace, Alec, and Magnus and nearly knocked all three into the water with his hug. Clary and Isabelle followed. And although there was no room left, Simon jumped into the fray as well while Raphael and Luke looked on, shaking their heads, amused.

 

\---------

 

**THREE DAYS LATER**

 

Jace walked into Alec’s bedroom with the vial of Hitler’s blood held at arm’s length like it was dead rabid rat. “Ugh, here, you take it,” he said, turning towards Simon.

 

The vampire raised his palms like the vial was a gun. “No way, man, that blood smells weird. I don’t know what Hitler was, but he wasn’t human.”

 

“Oh, but he was,” Magnus told the group. “He wasn’t a demon, wasn’t a monster. Just a corrupted human. What you’re sensing, Simon, is pure evil.”

 

Alec sat on the end of his bed between Isabelle and Clary. “Smells like burnt hair,” he said, nose wrinkled. “And gasoline.”

 

“Burnt werewolf hair,” said Isabelle. “And burning gasoline.”

 

“Daisies!” All eyes landed on Clary. “Kidding!” she said with shrug. “Just kidding, geeze…”

 

“Let’s get rid of it, already! Would you like to have the honor?” Jace asked Alec, who shook his head ‘no.’ “Well, somebody do something with it, quick. I keep expecting it to explode or burn off my hand.”

 

“May I?” Magnus asked.

 

“Ooo!” Simon cooed. “Are you going to cast it into another dimension? Bury it in the middle of the earth? Launch it into space?”

 

Magnus smiled. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’m going to give it the most formal, respectful sendoff it deserves!”

 

The group crowded into the bathroom and circled around the warlock. Grinning, Magnus raised his middle finger at the vial, then dumped the last of Adolf Hitler into the toilet.

 

**The End**


	8. Parabatai Purgatory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate ending to “Hail and Farewell” (season 2, episode 19). Alec takes care of Jace after he’s nearly murdered by Jonathan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Amy and Rory’s interaction in season 7, episode 1 of Doctor Who: “Asylum of the Daleks.”

**Parabatai Pain  
** PenPatronus  
Story #4  
 **Parabatai Purgatory**

 

The second that Jonathan’s body floated out of sight, Alec chucked his bow and arrows at Izzy so fast, so sudden, that she stumbled back against the railing. Hand on his _parabatai’s_ shoulder and eyes on the blood saturating Jace’s shirt, Alec ordered, “Sit down before you fall down.”

 

“Why do you always sound so annoyed at me when I get stabbed?” Jace tried to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, but only succeeded in mixing it with blood. His bruised windpipe throbbed, and he had to swallow three times before he got out anymore words. “And I’m not going to fa— _whoa_.” Jace moved like an indecisive pedestrian on a crowded crosswalk: slightly forward, slightly back, eyes trying to look in every direction at once. Trembling fingers coated in blood reached for the railing and missed by a mile.

 

“ _Jace_!” three voices shouted. Clary reached for him as he teetered, but it was Alec who pivoted behind him and took his weight. With his arms around Jace, hands at his _parabatai’s_ bellybutton, Alec looked like he was about to do the Heimlich Maneuver. Instead, he backed up until he felt the opposite wall on his spine, then slowly sat down against it with Jace clutched to his chest. “Iz, take Clary and find us a car,” said Alec softly.

 

“I can walk,” Jace said. “Just gotta get my second wind.”

 

Alec ignored him. “Hurry. He needs more than runes.”

 

“I’m fine!”

 

“Alec—” Isabelle began.

 

“I can’t carry him all the way back to the Institute,” the elder Lightwood insisted.

 

“I said I can walk—” A wet smack echoed when Alec slapped his palm on top of Jace’s mouth and left it there. Nostrils flaring, voice breaking like puberty, Alec said, “Isabelle, Clary, find us a car.”

 

Jace froze. Shocked, wide eyes glanced at the girls. Without another word, Izzy shouldered Alec’s weapons and Clary took Jace’s, and the pair jogged off the bridge. With the girls gone—Clary, specifically—Jace allowed himself to feel the pain he was in and, more importantly, to admit and show the extent of it. Pathetic groans preceded his body going limp. He stopped fighting and relaxed back into Alec’s arms. Eyes half-closed, jaw slack, he surrendered completely to his _parabatai’s_ ministrations. Alec yanked on Jace’s left sleeve and it tore when he tried to roll it up. His hands shook so much that it took him three times to draw the first iratze rune correctly. Irritated, Jace reached for the stele, mumbling, “Here, I’ll—”

 

Again, Alec’s right hand abruptly covered Jace’s white lips with a wet _smack_. “Shut up and hold still.” Jace didn’t argue, and Alec’s palm traveled up past his nose and over his eyes to land securely yet gently on his sweat-soaked forehead. He hugged it. With a cracking voice, Alec said, “Thought we were too late. _Angel_ , Jace, I thought you were a goner.”

 

Jace watched his _parabatai_ draw another iratze. Heat entered his blood and Jace immediately felt post-Thanksgiving dinner sleepy.

 

“We were too far away when Jonathan stabbed you, but I saw it, Jace. Felt it. Still feel it. Want to know what I realized in that moment?”

 

Jace decided that the question gave him permission to speak. “People die in war?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Jace frowned. This wasn’t breaking news.

 

“How _much_ I love you.”

 

Jace didn’t mean to sound so irritated when he said “Yeah, I know that, I love you, too—we done?” but he hoped Alec would blame his attitude on his injury. Few things made Jace less patient than pain. “We’re _parabatai_. I’d probably die if you did.” He tried to sit up, but Alec’s arms were a vice. “Alec, do we really have to film this chick flick now?”

 

Hot, exasperated breath on the back of Jace’s neck told him that Alec was breathing like a bull ready to charge. “Need you to listen to me.” Alec spoke the words so quietly that Jace instinctively rotated his ear an inch closer. “ _Need you to hear me_. I’m trying to say that I just realized I love you so much that I _wouldn’t_ die if you did.”

 

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to. I’d want you to keep going.”

 

Alec snorted. “That’s just it. That’s what I’m trying to say, Jace. Just the thought of losing you is unbearable and now I know— _I know_ —I _wouldn’t_ keep going. And I wouldn’t because… Because that would be part of my punishment.”  

 

Jace swallowed a lump in his throat he wasn’t aware was there. “Punishment?” Jace turned his head, trying to catch his brother’s eye, but Alec’s stele dropped to his side and he lowered his face and rested it against the space between Jace’s shoulder blades.

 

The timbre of Alec’s voice resembled an elderly man’s. “I always knew I’d die if you died. Not just because of the pain it would cause but because death would mean a reunion. The pain would only be temporary because I’d be reunited with you, with the Angel. If death was the only way for us to be together again, I’d choose it. But now I realize I love you so much that I’d choose Purgatory.”

 

The river churned in the background. Stars above winked down at the pair. “Why are you telling me this?” Jace whispered. His tired eyes closed without his permission.

 

Alec pulled him even closer. “I need you to survive this war. And if I die? I need you to keep breathing.”

 

“Hmmm,” Jace hummed in the back of his throat. “No Purgatory for me?”

 

“Like you would choose that?” Alec chuckled. “Yeah, right.”

 

_Ignition_. Jace’s eyes burst open. “Why are you laughing? Why wouldn’t I choose to punish myself for your death?”

 

“Oh, come on,” Alec said. “You wouldn’t take that option—especially with Clary in your life. We both know that I care about you a lot more than you care about me.”

 

Fire in Jace’s stomach. Something chemical, something like adrenaline in the soul woke every part of him up. Fighting Alec’s grip and ignoring the pain of doing so, he sat up straight and twisted to look his _parabatai_ in the face. “ _What the hell did you say_?”

 

Alec recoiled slightly. His eyes were bloodshot, and his lower lip looked swollen, as if he’d been chewing on it. “I…”

 

Heavy fury on Jace’s chest. “You love me _more_ than I love you? What is this, a damn competition?”

 

Alec averted his wet eyes. “Come on, Jace. You know it’s true. But that doesn’t mean it’s a big deal—”

 

“You stupid son of a bitch.” Jace’s elbow connected with Alec’s stomach to put more distance between them. “Think you have everything figured out, don’t you?”

 

Alec rubbed his chin like Jace had punched him. “I have _us_ figured out,” he claimed. “If you died, I’d be devastated. But if I died, you’d go on.”

 

Jace’s voice echoed across the river when he yelled, “ **You _did_ die**!” He doubled over, then, having used his abdominal muscles more than they preferred. Alec touched his shoulder but Jace shook him off. “Did you forget? Did you forget about the time you were lost? **YOU DIED IN MY ARMS**!”

 

“’Course I haven’t forgotten.”

 

“Your heart stopped. You weren’t breathing. I felt our rune disintegrate. _I felt your soul leave mine behind_ —you left me, Alec, _you left me_!”

 

“I—I—” Alec stammered.

 

“That—that _agony_. Holding you in my arms, begging for you to come back to me…” Jace rubbed his fists angrily against the wet heat in his eyes. “Did I die then? No. What did I do, Alec? What did I do?”

 

Alec resembled a deer in headlights when he blinked. “You—They took you—They imprisoned you in the City of Bones.”

 

“ _I let them take me to the City of Bones_!” Jace bellowed. “I could’ve fought back. Probably could’ve escaped. Magnus was so grateful you were alive that he would’ve protected me. But, no! I surrendered, Alec. Do you know why?”

 

Alec deflated. He put his face in his hands.

 

“I was punishing myself,” Jace whispered. “You were alive again, but I still felt the need to suffer because I felt like I let you down. I didn’t die when you did. I didn’t drop your lifeless body and ride into the sunset with Clary. _I chose Purgatory_!”

 

All the wind exited Alec’s sails. His knuckles landed on the wood planks and he listed forward, his forehead against his _parabatai’s_ sternum.

 

Jace’s voice nearly disappeared—that’s how soft he whispered, “So, don’t you dare tell me what I feel about you. Don’t you dare think you _know_ what it feels like to lose your _parabatai_! You can imagine me gone, but your death—your death is a _memory_.”

 

Silence. And then, his voice extra-muffled by Jace’s shirt, Alec whispered, “I’m sorry.”

 

Jace gripped the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

 

“Swear you won’t die. On my mother’s soul. Promise me.”

 

“People die in war, Alec…”

 

“ _Swear it_.”

 

“I’ll try not to. That’s what I can give you. That’s all I can really give you.”

 

Alec sniffed. “And I’ll give you that, too.”

 

**The End**


End file.
